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Epiphany Alt. Dimension arc, DVD commentary
by The Brat Queen

Summary: Taking a set of stories from arc 2 and talking them to death. ;)

Okay, as promised I'm trying to do another one of these. Hopefully I can keep it interesting. I was just telling Wolfling in IRC that it's a shame that I can't do these as actual audio tracks. Then I don't have to type, plus you can hear me do my Andrew impression ("Gather 'round, friends, as I tell you the tale of the handsome ex-Watcher, and his lover, the vam-PYRE Angelus..."). But I've no idea how that would match up with reading the story so here we go.

The alt. dimension arc of Epiphany remains to this day my favorite one. The Then/Now arc also holds a soft spot in my heart, but for some reason not as strongly as this one does. This could possibly be an indication that I should have stopped writing after Arc 2, but there we are. ;)

It's been years since I've written it (and let me pause to ponder that little reality) so I'm trying to remember what all lead up to it.

I know that by this stage of the game I'd realized that Epiphany was going to be a series that worked in arcs. When I first started I did the famous one-off of Everybody Fell, then I played around a bit, then I did a sort of mini-arc dealing with Wes's family, and then there came the alt. dimension bit which to me is the first true solid arc. (The Wes's family one was an arc, but one where I was still playing with the concept.)

The arc itself takes place in the bigger set of Arc 2, which I dubbed "Moving In". Arc 1 was "Getting Started". It's probably worth noting that I didn't conceive of the Arcs that way (usinig the capital letter here not to be pretentious but to distingush sections of the series - Arcs - from individual multi-story plotlines - arcs) when I was writing them. It was just that as time went on and people lamented not being able to read any of the series because they didn't want to touch something that was still being worked on, it seemed like a good idea to section everything out and give them a point where they could go "Okay, that is done. I can read that."

So Arc 1 developed without my willfull intent, but what it ended up being was Wes and Angel setting up their relationship. They're in a relationship, they've told all the crucial people, they've acknowledged it to the point where they're moving in together, they're done. The beginning phases of making Wes and Angel into WesandAngel were complete. Everything else that came after would work off of the foundation of the two of them being a team.

Arc 2, then, was going to be one of their first challenges together as a couple. It starts out with me taking care of a few details leftover from Arc 1 (including a Crossover plotline that I'd gotten stuck with b/c it ultimately did more for Strange Bedfellows than it did for my guys, which unfortunately I didn't realize until later when Epiphany took shape as more of a relationship series than a big bad plotline of the week series, and thus was written out as quickly as I could manage it), getting Wes moved into the hotel (and all the fun therein), and then kick-starting the relationship issues.

Now as time goes on my memory gets fuzzy, but basically one of the things I always wanted to do with the series was treat Wes's homosexuality as realistically as possible. I didn't want this to be the amazing slash world where even cops or guys in the military could be in a relationship together without anyone batting an eye. If Wes was gay then he was going to have to deal with gay issues, especially the issues of realizing his sexuality late in life and dealing with the fact that he'd repressed it for so long.

During Arc 1 we see Wes sort of bouncing all over the place in terms of his comfort levels with it. He's uncomfortable talking to Cordy about it but she's the first person he's told (outside of Angel) so he kind of plunges ahead and hopes for the best. Also the issue of him being in a relationship with Angel complicates things more than Wes choosing a lover with a stick shift, so the gay issue gets easily skipped over.

The world of Angel Investigations is very small, especially in this s2 canon where I'm branching off. The gang's only got four people in it and to all appearances they don't have many other close friends - especially Wes and Angel. So once the hurdle of talking to Cordy and Gunn is out of the way, Wes can relax and not be as uptight about displays of his relationship with them.

Buffy and the gang prove to be another hurdle, and one that went about as well as either Wes or Angel could expect ;)

Then new elements come in. There's a party and Wes is still taken aback by Angel's attentions enough to be moved when Angel wants to dance with him regardless of the setting, but then Wes has to deal with his family, and his father's disapproval, and the implicit understanding that everything Wes is doing right now is, to his father's mind, wrong. That includes not being a Watcher, that includes working with a vampire, and that includes, Wes is sure, the fact that he's gay.

So Wes starts to get shy again.

He moves into the hotel and can accept that arrangement because Cordy and Gunn are the only ones who he has to interact with on a daily basis, but in public Wes goes back into the closet. The disapproval of Buffy and the Scoobies was to be expected since it was Angel, but his father's disapproval has reminded Wes that he's now something that others think he should be ashamed of.

Of course the flip side to this is that Angel doesn't much care. He cares for Wes, sure, but canonically Angel's never cared if people thought that he was gay. As far as he's concerned now they can think he's gay and he gets the cute boyfriend on top of it. Win/win if you ask him.

So, once the cleanup of Arc 1 was done, I then set up the problems of this dynamic. Wes is ashamed and secretly wants to be in the closet, Angel's oblivious to the shame and if anything wants to crow about the hottie sharing his bed. This can't go well.

Things come to a boiling point in The Smallest Detail, wherein the boys enjoy a night of happy honeymoony sex which goes sour when Wes tells two strangers that no, Angel is not his boyfriend. Angel gets pissed, tries to control himself, but then he and Wes have a knock-down, drag-out shouting match the next day wherein Angel says "fuck" more times than your average R-rated movie. Not that yours truly has a vulgar mouth or anything ;)

Wes then bottom-lines it for Angel with some words that I like enough that I'm just going to quote again:

"There it is. There is your bloody issue. Do you want to know why I didn't tell them? Because unlike you, my beloved vampire, I care. I care because I have to. You can go about doing as you please because there isn't a human label that can touch you. But they touch me, Angel! Each and every one of them! And in what passes for my comparatively short mortal life I must deal with the consequences - with the whispers, and barbs, and questions, and the prejudices and the label of being a homosexual in a society which hardly welcomes such a thing with open arms and non-ironic parades and I am not ready for that."

And with that I think I've chatted enough for the intro. Let's get to the stories.

Alienation

Wesley stared at the door to the basement, longing to throw it open again. Whether to make Angel see reason or to simply yell at him he didn't know. But he wanted to talk, to let the words keep tumbling out of his mouth. It had been refreshing, for all that it had felt as though he'd dropped off of a cliff and hadn't yet hit bottom.

He turned away, intending to retreat into his office. The sight of Cordelia stopped him.

"So I forgot my paycheck?" she said, staying in her position by the front door, somewhat hidden by the staircase. "And I know it's Sunday and all but I figured if I got it and put it into the ATM then the phone company would know I was trying to pay my bills even if the check hadn't cleared because it's not my fault every bank works like it's run by Amish people and I figured I could just - you know - sneak in and grab it and not bug you guys with the honeymoon-y goodness so, here's me, sneaking in...." she trailed off, the expression on her face clearly indicating that she was dying to know what happened, even if she felt like she couldn't actually ask about it.

I love this Cordy babble here. I can't remember if anybody else ever commented on it but I just love her saying the bank's run by Amish people. It sounds like her to me.

"Angel and I had a small disagreement," he told her. He moved over to the counter and tidied up the random pieces of paper on it for lack of anything better to do.

"I know," she said, clearly relieved that he'd admitted it for her. She came in and stood beside him. "In fact, I think our neighbors know which is kind of impressive since we don't have any. So - wow. Is it your first?"

Wesley thought of the night Angel had nearly drunk from him. A night he hadn't told Cordy or Gunn about. "Yes."

Note the foreshadowing! This is part of how Epiphany turned into an arc series. There were certain issues that just weren't going to be taken care of in a single story, nor were they meant to. Angel's blood drinking issues and Wes's handling of them were two. The whole thing started back in Arc 1, but here we see that problem continuing. It was important enough for Wes to be thinking of it even now, and moreover he's lying about it to Cordy. That's exactly the kind of support for his dark side that Angel didn't want Wesley to have. Throw in a few Arcs worth of that and we get to everything that happened in Arc 4.

She frowned sympathetically. "Want to talk about it?"

Wesley stared down at their business cards. His eyes traced the outline of the lobster-slash-angel that was their logo. "Not particularly."

"It doesn't have to be about him," Cordy said, gesturing in the direction of the basement. "It could be about anything. Or we could go to the movies. Come on - Lord of the Rings is still playing. Although suddenly I'm thinking movies about guys with swords who go on quests is not the best way to make you forget about your boyfriend."

Lucky for me LotR was huge enough that including that reference doesn't date the piece more than it has to. The Harry Potter reference in Arc 1, though apt, feels dated to me now.

Wesley gave her a slight smile. "Possibly not."

"It'll be okay," she said. "I know it feels all end-of-the-world-y but you'll be fine. Although if you want my advice - "

Wesley didn't but he responded automatically, having learned to tune out many of Cordelia's monologues. "Yes?"

When she didn't respond he turned to look at her. "Yes?"

"Pen - " she gasped, clutching her head. "Paper!"

He leaned over the counter, quickly gabbing at the supplies and writing down the information from her vision. With his other hand he reached out to the phone and dialed Gunn and Angel's pagers, plugging in the code which meant return to the hotel and hoping that in his rush to leave Angel hadn't forgotten to take his beeper with him.

The thing that I love about Cordy's visions was that you could tell on the show they shamelessly used them whenever the writers needed them to occur. I swiped that wholesale when doing fic because I figured if Tim et al. were The Powers that Be in canon, then I'm The Power that Is over here.

I needed that because I needed a way to get Wes into another dimension and deus ex vision is always an easy way to move the plotline along. I suppose it's a bit of a cheat but OTOH the point of the story is not to talk about a case, it's to talk about Wes. So getting Wes where he needs to be is only going to be supported by as much as it needs to actually get him there and no more.

The warehouse crackled with energy. Wesley found it difficult to breathe.

"You okay?" Angel asked softly. He'd been tense since he'd been called back, but he hadn't complained. Wesley resigned himself to being without him once the vision was solved and Angel was temporarily free to do as he desired.

"I'll be all right," Wesley replied, not really looking at him. He stared across the dark expanse of space, trying to make out anything. Somewhere in the building, Gunn and Cordelia were doing their own reconnaissance.

"You're breathing a little - "

"I'm fine," Wesley snapped, not needing a vampire's eyes to see the flicker of emotion that crossed Angel's face. He sighed and tried to remain professional. "Do you see anything?"

Nothing like being forced to deal with your SO after you've had an argument. Bet Wes would have a lot of fellow-feeling with Buffy during Graduation right now ;)

"No." There was a pause, as though Angel debated if he should continue. "Feels like I'm covered in ants though. Somebody's charged this place good."

Wesley nodded. His own skin felt tight and the hairs on his arms stood on end. Magic was one possible cause. "The building may be haunted. Can you sense a presence of any kind?"

Trivia detail: I used to give tours of haunted buildings, so I used my experiences from that when talking about what Wes and Angel were going through here.

"Cordy didn't say anything about ghosts," Angel said.

"It's still possible."

Angel acknowledged this, then shrugged. "Nothing specific. Something strong. That's about it."

This was unsurprising, since vampires were about as capable of detecting ghosts as humans were.

"Wait," Angel said. He held a hand out as though Wesley had been about to step forward. "I see something."

Wesley looked in the same direction but saw only the spots before his eyes. "What?"

"Can't tell. Might be an altar. Come on." With that Angel lead the way. Wesley followed, reflecting on the humor of a vampire clad entirely in black trying to guide him through the darkness.

He also wished that their flashlights worked. Their failure to do so was either a fault of old batteries or further proof of paranormal activity.

As though reading his mind, Angel silently handed over his cigarette lighter. "Here. Take a look."

Still more with the foreshadowing. Epiphany Angel is a smoker, which I know is a symbol on the show for evil characters. If he's smoking enough to keep his lighter handy in his pocket, his darker side is a lot closer to the surface than it's probably supposed to be.

Wesley popped the lighter open and got the flame to catch on his second try. He knelt down in front of two large tablets covered with what looked like centuries-old wood carvings. He slowly waved his small torch in front of them, trying to make out the runes amongst the jumping shadows.

"P'cskish?" Angel asked.

My friend Cin, upon reading this, said "You just randomly hit letters on the keyboard, didn't you?" Demon names are difficult. I know the show formula of taking pet names and reversing them when all else fails, but sometimes I like to try to get out of that rut. Also I only have so many pets. Sometimes the creativity works, sometimes it doesn't.

Wesley shook his head. He ran his fingers over the wood, relying on touch to tell him where the lines began and ended. He could feel a tingling along his fingertips. "It's similar, but I think it's another dialect. Or possibly an older version of it. It's difficult to tell in this light."

"You sure you should be touching that?"

"About as sure as I am that I shouldn't be," Wesley replied. He stood up again, flicking the lighter closed to save on fuel. "Which is to say not at all in either direction. It's impossible to tell in this light. For all I know I should be using it as a board in a hearty game of Scrabble."

And still more deus ex plot device. But I had to set up why Wes would fall into this trap in the first place, considering that he's supposed to be the walking magic encyclopedia.

"Let's take it out of here then," Angel said. "Get it into the light."

"May as well," Wesley agreed. He reached for the tablet closest to him. "It could be a dead end, but let's eliminate the possibility."

"There's a door over there," Angel said, running his hand down Wesley's arm and guiding it in the right direction, even though by now his eyes had readjusted to the dark.

"I see it," Wesley reassured him. He hefted the tablet and tucked it under his arm, carefully working his way around the angular shapes of boxes. As he walked, the air around him felt colder. "When we get outside, let's - "

"Wes, wait," Angel cut in. "I think I -"

Suddenly the world went white.

And there we go. No fuss, no muss, Wes is now in another dimension.

Now the trick of this was that I didn't want the change to be obvious. I wanted the reader to be in the same place Wes was with all of this. Plus I felt that that would make it more "real". The impact of Wes's time here wouldn't work for the reader if it was easy to see that it was only a silly mistake and Wes would be back home at any time. Instead they had to be right there with him - uncertain, disoriented, and then WHAM! Hit with the bad news.

Let's see how it goes...

"Should we hit him?"

Well Cordy still sounds the same, at least ;)

"Cordy, you do not hit someone who just got himself a nasty bump on the head."

"Why not?"

"Why not? How 'bout because we're trying to wake the man up, not give him a matching set of bruises?"

"I was just trying - "

"Quiet, I think he's coming out of it."

You'll notice there's no "he said" "she said" here. That's part of getting you into Wes's POV. He's coming out of being knocked unconscious so at first he's only hearing voices. He's disoriented, so it's also taking him a second to get his bearings. His mind needs a moment to remember what name goes with what sound, you as the reader are going to get a moment of needing to figure it out for yourself.

The last voice was Angel's. Wesley recognized it. He also recognized Angel's hand on his arm, holding him gently. The rest of the world felt prickly and thick. "A-Angel?"

Notice that it's Angel's voice which finally orients Wes. This is a little sappy but it's also the heart of the entire arc. Deep down Wes knows what his feelings are, he knows he wants to be with Angel, he just has to admit it out loud.

Cordelia dropped into view, and the sight of her worried face was his first realization that he'd opened his eyes. "Jeez, Wes - you scared the crap out of us."

Wesley tried to sit up, unable to keep from smiling at Cordelia's concern. "What happened?"

"Careful," Angel's hand moved to his shoulder, holding him down. "I don't think you're ready to move yet."

Herein lies the first careful steps of the AU. The characters need to sound like themselves, but they also need to be true to the universe. How they react to Wes being hurt provides me with a great way to do this setup.

Notice how it's Cordy who's actually expressing worry about Wes: not Angel. Notice that Angel's concern is fairly platonic. He's being kind, yeah, which tricks you into thinking it's the same guy. But reread it knowing the twist and you realize this is just Angel being Angel. He tends to be nice to people who just got hurt, especially if they're his friends. But otherwise Angel's not especially concerned.

"You got a nasty dose of somethin'," Gunn explained. Behind him, Wesley could see the exterior of the warehouse. He wondered when they'd moved outside.

"There was something on the floor," Angel said. He looked faintly guilty. "Lines. Made out of paint and chalk. Didn't see 'em until you were on your way out. Your foot hit one of them - "

"And that whole place lit up like a nuclear Christmas tree," Cordy finished.

"Looked like it started right where you were standing," Angel said. "You kind of jerked, and fell, and hit your head on the way down."

"Which explains why my head feels as though it's been inhabited by a Skilosh," Wesley said. He made himself sit up, going slowly so Angel wouldn't complain about it. "I can't say I remember any of it. How did we get outside?"

More lovely tricks of the narrative here. Wes thinks that Angel would scold him for going too fast. Which is true. Angel in the other dimension would. But this Angel might not be as much of a mother hen. However we're in Wes's POV which means he doesn't know that so you don't know that. But by putting it into the narrative it seems like Angel is expressing that concern. You read it so you assume right along with Wes that that's what would happen. You're both wrong, but now you're both laboring under the same false assumption.

"By leaving the big, ol' I'm-really-mysterious-so-maybe-you-shouldn't-touch-me things on the inside," Cordy explained. She rolled her eyes, finishing the gesture with a glare in Angel's direction. "Boys. Do you always have to play with things you don't understand?"

Angel ducked his head, avoiding her gaze. "We should take Wes to the hospital."

Aaaaand there's the other twist of this AU. Not only is this a world where Wes didn't speak up, but it's a world where because he didn't speak up, Angel went on to have a crush on Cordy. Wes won't realize it until later, but you get your first hint of it now. Cordy scolds and Angel gets shy and can't make eye contact.

"Duh," Cordy said. She stood up, holding her hands out to help Wesley to his feet. "Come on."

Angel was beside her at once. "You should go home. This place - it's not safe. Maybe we should - "

Still more hints. Cordy helps Wes up, not Angel. Angel is now officially more worried about Cordy's well-being than Wesley's. It's all true to this universe but if you're still as disoriented as Wes is you might not notice it.

"I'll take her," Gunn volunteered. "Think you can get English to the ER and back before sunrise?"

"Um - yeah," Angel said. He looked as though he might say more, but turned his attention to Wesley instead. "Come on. You can lean on me if you want."

Wesley didn't turn the offer down, particularly since he wasn't entirely certain if he was standing or not. Mentally he listed the warning signs of a concussion and found himself putting a checkmark next to every one of them. "Perhaps you should drive as well," he joked, trying to put a good show on for everyone.

I actually had to look up the warning signs of a concussion. Fortunately they turned out to be exactly what I needed to weaken and confuse Wes enough to make his physical state contribute to his disorientation. This also caused some rewrites, too, as I made Wes bad enough that by all rights he should have been back in the hospital again, which obviously wouldn't do for the story.

"Get him there quick," Gunn said.

"I will," Angel promised.

"Wait," Wesley protested, thinking of the warehouse, "we should - "

"I'll get some guys to watch it," Gunn said.

"Excellent," Wesley replied. "I think that will be..."

He trailed off, slipping once more into unconsciousness.

Ahem. For the record if you pass out a lot after getting a concussion that's apparently not good. So don't be as blase about it as Wes turns out to be! I get to cheat a little though because I know Wes is also suffering from dimension sickness and not just a bump on the head.

As I don't cover the aftermath here, I might as well say now that I came up with dimension sickness as a way of trying to address some canon issues. It just seemed to me that if you went to a dimension that worked on a different time line than your own then it's entirely possible that your body would adjust to that. After all, people get sick when they change altitude, why not timeframe?

I wouldn't demand that this be canon, and I'm certainly fine for a canonical assumption of "Look, it's magic, we swear they're fine." But for fanfic I like exploring ideas, so this is one I wanted to try. Plus I didn't want Wes's time to be easy either coming or going. He spends a significant amount of time in this AU but goes back and hardly a second has passed. I figured that had to cause some wear and tear on the system.

Angel paced in the tiny and far too bright examination room they had placed him in. "Hate these places. They take too long."

Wesley glanced at the clock. They had hours yet until sunrise. "It's the emergency department of a Los Angeles hospital on a..." he paused, trying to remember what day the doctor had said it was. "Saturday?"

"Sunday," Angel corrected.

"Sunday," Wesley repeated, trying to commit it to memory, then finding it funny to think it wouldn't matter once midnight passed - or had midnight passed already? He looked at the clock again. "Sunday night. It's bound to be a bit crowded."

Poor Wes. Can't even remember what day it is. He doesn't have a prayer in Hell of noticing that Angel's not doing anything that would be considered above and beyond the call of friendship.

"I don't care," Angel came over to him, his brown eyes worried. "Fuck - you looked like a bolt of lightening went through you. That's not good."

"I wasn't about to suggest it as an ideal activity for a date," Wesley said.

"It's not funny, Wes," Angel reached out as though to touch the bump on his head, then stilled. "Do you - is it okay?"

The dialogue sure sounds okay for them. Wes is making jokes about dates. It's not Angel's fault he doesn't realize Wes meant dates for them to go on. Angel's also being very kind in his touch, but Wes has no idea Angel just has an academic interest, not a caretaking one.

"Being alive makes it throb with pain," Wesley replied. "If anything the cool touch of a room temperature hand should feel heavenly against it."

Angel nodded, running his fingertips lightly over the swollen area, studying it critically. "I've seen guys with bumps like this. It's not good. And this was magic, Wes."

"I'm sure it's just a concussion."

"You can barely remember where you are!"

"Which would be one of the signs of a concussion," Wesley pointed out. "Angel, I in no way discount the potential danger of whatever spell it was that we triggered, but right now I don't think it will do us any good to panic and assume the worst. It's a minor medical problem. It will be all right."

Angel looked skeptical. "Can you tell me what day it is?"

Wesley paused, fighting the urge to look at the clock. He took his chances with 1 in 7 odds. "Monday?"

"Still Sunday," Angel said, grimly. "Fuck - I should have looked. I should have -"

Angel's own constant guilt issues serve to keep up the narrative subterfuge. It seems lke he's guilting about Wes specifically being hurt. He's actually just generally feeling guilty. He's taking responsibility as the guy in charge, not as Wes's boyfriend.

"We can't change what happened," Wesley said, "I was in possession of a light source which I willingly chose not to use. Likewise I daresay I've been on more magical expeditions than you and should have done more of a look-round to make sure the area was secure. It was an accident. These things happen. You can't let yourself take on the responsibility for it. We'll be more careful next time. It's all we can do."

Wes's lines here are basically me doing some final tidying on the plausibility of the deus ex plot device.

"I'm still not happy about it," Angel said. "Wes - you couldn't even remember your name when you got in here."

"Perhaps not," Wesley admitted, not wanting to add that he couldn't remember being checked in either. Instead he covered Angel's hand with his own, pulling it away from his wound and squeezing it gently. "But I can assure you, there are some things, at least, which I do remember."

Angel shifted uncertainly, glancing at the door. "Wesley -"

The sound of the doctor coming in interrupted them both. Angel stepped back, standing by the stainless steel sink and watching the proceedings with a steady eye.

This is the closest they get to realizing that something's up. Wes squeezes Angel's hand, to which Angel is actually thinking Wes must really be disoriented. Wes, however, assumes Angel was only being uncertain about it because the doctor was coming. After all, public displays of affection were what caused the big fight they just have. The doctor himself distracts the both of them and realization gets postponed for a little longer.

"It is a concussion," the doctor said. He took a small flashlight and shone it into Wesley's eyes, making his view an odd combination of the bright light from it and the reflected dots of fluorescent light which decorated the man's balding head. Wesley fought off the urge to vomit. "Pupils are still enlarged. Have you tried to walk?"

"No," Angel answered for him.

"It doesn't look like there are any complications," the doctor said, putting his flashlight back into his shirt pocket. He picked up Wesley's file and began writing in it. "You're going to need to keep a watch though. Don't sleep more than a few hours at a time. Do you have someone who can stay with you? Make sure you wake up?"

"I will," Angel said. He gave a half-smirk, including Wesley in the gesture. "I'm not much of a day person."

Wesley smiled back at him.

There's poor Wes, assuming that Angel's making a joke of this because - duh, of course his lover would be the one to watch over him. Also there's the vampire thing, but Wes assumes the lover thing as being part of the joke.

"Okay," the doctor said. He handed some pamphlets to Angel, who skimmed them quickly. "Keep an eye out for any of these signs. Anything big - he can't walk, talk, whatever - call 911. Same if he can't wake up after 3 or 4 hours of sleep."

Things that TBQ added to her draft once she actually did some research ;) You know normally I write the stories as they come to me but this one I actually banged out ahead of time because it was so strong in my head. I then went back and did the stories that would lead up to it. Once I did that I did the cleanup on this one. Usually I can't do that without totally screwing up the tale, so I'm happy this one still worked out.

"I got it," Angel said, putting the paperwork into his coat pocket. "Can I take him home now?"

The doctor shrugged, already halfway out the door. "Make sure he signs everything on the way out."

"It's rather like being a child again," Wesley said. He moved to stand up. Angel assisted him. "Come on. Let's go back to the hotel."

Angel appeared to think about it, then nodded. "Sure. Lemme get your clothes."

He needs to think about it, of course, because he assumed Wes would want to go back home. But Wes was hurt and the hotel's big so - eh, okay. Why not?

It wasn't often that they used the hotel lift. As it groaned underneath his feet, Wesley was reminded why.

Whenever I'm doing Wes narrative (or Spike, now) I always get caught on the British words. It's not that I don't know them, but sometimes I would rather not use them. "Flat" and "lift" are well known enough at this point that I don't mind throwing them in. Other words might be more obscure. I tend to leave them out, then, if it's going to confuse more readers then it will satisfy.

It's a tough call to make, because on the one hand I want the narrative to sound like Wes - esp in something like this where we need to be as deep inside of his head as we can get without going first person - but OTOH I'm not spelling color with a u either. That's why I end up splitting the difference on what will be the most coherent for the reader. I figure my first job is to tell a story they can understand. If they can't understand what I'm talking about, it doesn't matter how well I followed any other rules.

Dialogue is also a tricky one. Especially since Wes isn't scripted by Brits either. I'll tend to be more accurate with the British words when Wes is actually speaking, but again there are times when the British word throws me out of the moment. "Arse" for instance. I know Brits don't say "Ass" like Americans do, but seeing that on a page throws me out of a moment in a way that hearing Wes say it on the show would not. "Angel, take your head out of your arse." works for me. "Angel, fuck me up the arse." does not. So in dialogue if I don't like the British word I'll either take it out ("Angel, fuck me hard.") or I'll just say that after so many years in the US language-maven Wesley would pick up an idiom here and there.

So that's my take on it, for what it's worth.

"I should have let you carry me," he told Angel. He leaned against the wall, feeling as though he'd rather be lying down.

"Need help walking?" Angel held the elevator doors open for him once they reached the second floor.

"No. I can manage," Wesley said. Attempting to hide the effort it took he made his way down the hall. "But thank you."

This was a tricky passage because Original!Angel wouldn't have let Wes go two steps on his own. But AU Angel isn't that touchy-feely. So I had to present a situation where Wes was plausibly going upstairs under his own power. Presenting Wes as having pre-rejected the suggestion kind of worked. Though I think this is a moment where it was hardest to keep the secret and yet keep things plausible. It's difficult to figure out how much exposition you need to explain the blocking yet not give the game away. Like part of me wonders if I should have added a layer of "Wes assumes Angel's not hovering too much because of their earlier fight" but OTOH is pointing out the lack of hovering in and of itself going to give the game away? So I went with this and hoped it would be enough.

"Okay," Angel said. He followed along behind him. "Should you sleep?"

Wesley opened the door to their rooms. The couch in front of the TV called out to him. He curled up on it, pillowing his head against the armrest. "Probably. But I don't feel as though I can."

The next hurdle was avoiding the bed, because Wes automatically assuming he was going to sleep in it would be another moment of game over right then and there. But Wes being exhausted allowed me to put him on the couch without anybody thinking it was strange - including Angel.

And let me just take this moment to again say that the layout of the Hyperion only exists to drive me mental. I keep thinking I know where things are in relation to each other, and then I rewatch eps and I'm so very, very wrong. Didn't help that the blueprints they put on the DVDs were as washed out as they were. Humph.

Angel nodded, taking off his coat and putting it away. "Adrenaline's still going through your system."

"Most likely," Wesley agreed. He reached out for the remote control. "Come join me? I'm sure there's some absolutely horrible program on at this hour that we can both be bored or appalled by."

"Logan's Run is on," Angel pointed out, indicating a TV Guide he'd been looking through the day before.

"Oh yes," Wesley said. "Let's watch a movie about how useless one becomes at 30, particularly while I feel as I currently do."

Angel looked sheepish. "Sorry."

Foreshadowing there for age issues, assuming I ever get around to them. With Epiphany once I understood I was working on a series my mind was always brainstorming at least two story arcs ahead. That way I could not only tell the story I was telling but also set up the stories to come.

"I'm joking," Wesley moved to make room for Angel on the couch. "Please - watch whatever you like. At the moment I don't believe I can comprehend enough to deserve a full vote in the matter."

"Casablanca?"

Wesley gave him the remote. "Wonderful."

I tried to figure out some movies that both Angel and Wes would like. Based on what they've said on the show I figured Logan's Run and Casablanca would be okay. Later on I'll talk about music.

Angel changed the channels, then sat down. Wesley shifted position, watching the light from the TV play over Angel's features. Angel looked up, catching his gaze. "Can I - do you need anything?"

"I'm sorry about our quarrel," Wesley said.

Angel looked uncomfortable. "Don't worry about it."

"Angel - "

"Wes," Angel turned to face him, "you've had one Hell of a night. Don't - don't worry about anything right now, okay? Just get better."

Wesley sighed, resting his head back down. "Fine."

Angel and Wes were going to have had a fight regardless. After all, that was the catalyst for all this. But the fight itself was a wonderful tool because it allowed for levels of discomfort between the both of them which would seem natural to Wesley. Wes is hurt, he wants to make the fight go away so he and Angel can maybe get snuggly, Angel isn't buying it so Wes figures Angel's still mad at him and what can you do? Angel, for his part, just thinks Wes scrambled his brains when he knocked his head.

"Wes? C'mon, wake up."

The world tilted, then revealed the form of Angel kneeling in front of him, frowning worriedly. "Is it four hours already?"

Angel nodded. "Yep."

Wesley took a few deep breaths. He had to wake up fully in order to prove his symptoms hadn't gotten worse. It took a few moments, but he managed it. "This is becoming easier with practice."

"Should heal up on its own," Angel said.

"Hopefully," Wesley said. He took a few sips of water from a glass Angel had brought him earlier. "Dear Lord - with a headache like this you'd think I was working for the Council again."

Angel smirked.

"Could I bother you for a refill?" Wesley asked, holding out his glass. He readjusted his blanket, which Angel had covered him with sometime after the first or second test of his reactions.

Angel filled the glass in the sink in the kitchenette. "Think we should move you to a bed?"

"Tempting," Wesley said, "but I don't think I could move right now if I were on fire."

"Maybe we shouldn't test that," Angel suggested.

"I appreciate that."

"Get some sleep, Wes."

Wesley yawned. "I defy you to stop me."

Some of this was covering the bases for Wes's supposed concussion, but it was also part and parcel of fuzzy tigering the AU Angel aspect. Angel and Wes are friends - best friends, as this Angel later admits - so Angel is kind towards him and wants to take care of him. The dialogue is also ambiguous. Wes, and probably you, assume Angel means their bed. Angel actually means any of the spare ones in the hotel. But Wes turns it down so you don't get to learn that.

Morning came. Or, Wesley thought as he looked at his watch, most likely afternoon. Assuming his watch hadn't been harmed in the previous day's blast. Had he even worn it then or did he put it on sometime during the night? Everything was still a blur. His own thoughts felt clear, though. At least clearer than they had been.

He stood up. He was alone in the suite, which made sense given the hour. He assumed everyone was downstairs working on Cordelia's vision and any possible leads as to what had happened to him. He resolved to join them as soon as he was able. Prior to that, however, he desperately needed a shower.

He navigated into the bathroom on autopilot. He stripped off his clothes and idly wondered if it would be worthwhile asking Angel to examine them for clues or if the hours he'd spent in hospital had effectively overridden any useful smells they might have contained. It also occurred to him that taking a shower would effectively rid himself of any such clues, but beyond the still tender bump on his head he didn't think he bore any.

That was me still enjoying my fetish of pointing out that Angel could be a very useful forensics department if they ever allowed him to be. His senses, Wes's brains - they'd never lose a case ;)

The hot water, though soothing to his muscles, was agony on his brain. He changed the temperature to cold and lathered up as best as he was able. Bending down was a hardship. The idea of washing his hair was unthinkable. It would have to be done at another time, perhaps even in a bath. In the meanwhile it was enough to get clean again. He debated shaving, then decided to leave it for a moment when he had steadier hands.

He let a final blast of water rinse his body, then stepped out of the tub. His glasses were fogged, but he found the towel rack easily and wiped himself down, sitting when that made it easier to reach everything. Feeling dry enough to trust the cool air of the hotel against his skin, he wrapped the towel around his waist and entered the bedroom.

The bed itself was inviting but he refused to give in to sleep. There would be time enough for that later. Instead he went to the closet, moving aside Angel's silk shirts and -

Here it would have been nice to have a definite layout of Angel's suite, but OTOH I guess if I don't know it few other people do either ;)

Regardless, this is when the first shoe is about to drop. We've been bopping along, right there with Wes on the misunderstandings, and now we're going to get our first real culture shock.

"Hey, Wes? You up?" Angel's voice came to him from the other room. "I thought I heard something."

Wesley ran a hand over his forehead, blinking as though it might clear his vision. "Angel, where are my things?"

Angel turned around in a slow circle. "Um - did you leave them in the bathroom?"

"No," Wesley said. "I mean yes, I did. What I wore last night. But what about my clothes?"

"What about them?" Angel asked.

"Where are they?" Wesley pointed to the racks filled with Angel's clothing. "They're not here."

"Well yeah," Angel said. "Wes - that's my closet."

Wesley blinked. He looked around. There were no other closets in the room. "What - did you put my things in the bureau?"

This dialogue was hard to write, as was the dialogue coming up with Gunn and Cordy. Basically it's a moment when it's hard for me as an author to distance myself from what I know to figure out what the characters would actually say when confronted with this information.

For example, Wes's "where are my things?" followed by Angel's guess of in the bathroom works. That's an easy discussion to figure out. But then Wes actually has to figure out where his clothes are and it's harder to guess at what point would Wes figure out there was something seriously wrong. Moreso than missing clothes.

Plus, frankly, how often do we find ourselves in these situations? It's hard to extrapolate how anyone would react upon finding a change like this. Would we deny it? Go for stupid insistance that things are elsewhere? Rely on our knowledge of movies (or in this case, Wes's knowledge of the supernatural) to guess that reality has changed? Other?

Now that I've got Tivo, I've been watching old episodes of The West Wing and I was reassured to see that even Aaron Sorkin had a problem like this. It's in the premiere for season two, when Donna finds out that Josh was shot. She comes in all oblivious and Toby finally has to get her attention and says "Josh was hit." Donna then blinks and goes "Hit with what?"

I'm guessing, granted, but I'll bet you anything that was a line Aaron was too close to. He wanted to convey Donna's denial but was too hyper-aware of the situation himself to figure out what somebody would say. Because for me the more likely question would have been "Hit?" as in "I didn't hear that correctly, right?" and not "with what?" because after everybody's come under attack by gunfire it's a fair guess you know what the projectile was. But I'll bet Aaron was too close to the material and therefore took a guess as to what the question of somebody in the ignorance of denial might be.

So same here for me with Wesley. I'm trying to guess what the correct questions for him would be but I'm not totally certain I got it. I'll wager I could have redone some of this "Hit with what?" dialogue if I could have only gotten some distance from the material.

"I didn't put them anywhere," Angel said.

"Surely I - "

Angel put his hand on Wesley's shoulder. "Wes - this isn't your bedroom."

"What?"

TBC

When I originally wrote this mini-arc I did it as one large story. However when posting I decided to break it up. Reason being, I wanted the impact of each moment to stay with people. I wanted them to take the information and have to ponder it, just as Wes was. So I kept at least a day between each post, just to make sure time could be taken. I think this was the only time I actually used that meta-element of real time as a tool in the telling of the story. Of course it doesn't work as well now when the whole thing is archived on my page, but you still have to read each story as its own piece, so hopefully some of that has remained.

At A Loss

"So how's the English Patient?" Gunn asked as he and Cordy walked into the room.

"He's still disoriented," Angel said.

"I am not disoriented," Wesley replied. "I am perfectly capable of knowing where I am. Angel, if this is some sort of childish attempt on your part to respond to our fight - "

"What fight?" Cordelia asked.

Now here, obviously, you can figure out something's up. Wes is still trying to come to terms with what, exactly, and I think him assuming Angel's pulled a cheap move in response to the fight isn't bad (though Angel would have had very little time to do that, if Wes took a second to think about it).

I wish I could remember the feedback I got on this one. I know I got plenty of people taking sides in the Wes/Angel fight in "Just Friends", which made me very happy because that told me I wrote it well enough for people to care. For this I know I got feedback but I can't remember if anybody guessed alt. dimension at this point or even if that was an issue. I know during the writing of this piece I wanted there still to be at least some question of what I'd done. Something's up, yet things are very similar. So that doesn't yet narrow the options down.

Which isn't to say that at this point I was dying to keep the mystery. Just that for those who still had the question I hope I managed to keep it interesting for them as they and Wes kept guessing.

"- I may never forgive you," Wesley finished.

"Wes, we're not having a fight," Angel said.

"Sounds like you're fighting to me," Gunn observed.

Wesley put his hand to his head again. "Everyone - please. One at a time."

"Okay, see?" Cordelia stepped forward, trying to guide him to the chair by the bed. "This is what we call being disoriented."

"I don't argue that I'm well," Wesley said, sitting down because it at least took the work of standing out of the equation. "But disorientation is - is forgetting up from down. Not knowing which day it is. It isn't forgetting where I bloody live!"

"Okay," Angel said, watching him carefully. "Where do you live?"

"Here!" Wesley said, gesturing to the room around him. When they all looked at him in confusion, he tried again, looking into Angel's eyes as though they were a lifeline. "Angel, I - I live here. I moved in. Don't you recall? All of the boxes? The fuss with my landlord?"

This I had to write a few times to get right. And I think I managed to avoid "hit with what?" as I did it. I don't remember the first attempts but they were very clunky and Wes flat-out stating that he lived there which just didn't work for me. Wes insisting that a concussion wouldn't make him confused as to his address, however, did.

Once I did that I was able to get Wes away from that hyper-aware place and into one where now he has twigged to something being up. But he's worried so he gets to stop saying and start questioning. It reads much better for Wes to say "Don't you remember the fuss with my landlord?" instead of "I did so move in. It took exactly three weeks and my landlord fussed and...."

"Maybe you're thinking of when we moved the office?" Gunn asked.

"Yeah," Cordelia nodded. "Lots of boxes. And remember how the landlord there put up a big fight over where we left the old furniture?"

"I do," Wesley said, feeling the memories come forth as she spoke of them. "But I moved out of my flat as well."

"At the same time?" Angel asked.

"No - yes," Wesley struggled to order his thoughts. "It was Thanksgiving. You asked me after Thanksgiving."

"I asked you to move in here," Angel repeated slowly.

"Yes!" Wesley said.

Cordy looked back and forth between the both of them. "Wes - why would Angel do that? You know how dangerous it would be. Heck, one really good cup of coffee and we'd probably find you dead and tortured in the basement!"

Angel looked away.

Lotta stuff being done here with those last two paragraphs. There's foreshadowing again, because no forms of Angel are wholly safe to be in a relationship with. There's Wes's continued inability to see that this isn't the Angel who's in love with him - Wes just figures Cordy is issuing a standard objection here, not a reminder that Angel can't ever be with anybody. And there's the hint of the final twist of this universe. Cordy makes a biting comment about Angel and Angel can't stand to hear it because it's making his heart break. If she can't accept the idea in general, he knows there's no way she'll ever accept it with her.

"It was worthwhile," Wesley said. He tried to meet Angel's eyes again. "The danger was worthwhile. I told you."

I actually had to remember to include this line when I wrote the stories leading up to this.

"Look," Gunn said, "seems to me like we've got ourselves something going on here. Maybe whatever did the magic whammy on you yesterday's still working. Messing with your head."

"To what purpose?" Wesley asked.

"You've gotta find out, Wes," Angel said.

"But first you need to get better," Cordy said sternly. "And that means rest. In your own bed."

"I - I can't," Wesley said, looking helplessly at Angel.

"I'll take you," Cordelia said. When it looked as though Angel might protest, she added "It's the middle of the very sunny day and I can be research girl using Wes's connection just as easily as I can here. Why don't you and Gunn put your ears to the ground or whatever it is you do to find out information and join us when the sun sets?"

"Sounds like a plan," Gunn said.

"Are you sure?" Angel asked.

Wesley debated it for a moment, then nodded. "I suppose. If - if this is truly a problem with my memory it might be best if I return to familiar environment. See the situation for myself, as it were."

Another hyper-aware moment for me. Would Wes really agree to accept the version of events that's being presented to him, or would he say sod this for a game of soldiers and demand to know what's going on? I think possibly if he really was as disoriented as I was making him and his three closest friends were insisting on this version of events he might trust in what they were telling him - especially Angel. But presenting that as a third party to the tale is difficult. Again it's that line between plausible narrative and clunky over-exposition.

"I'll make sure he wakes up every few hours," Cordy said.

"You okay to drive?" Angel asked.

"As okay as I ever am," she replied. She waved off their worried looks. "It's just the usual vision headache. I'll be fine."

Angel looked unconvinced. "Take my car."

"Well it's not as though I'm bringing Wesley home on his bike," Cordy said, rolling her eyes. She made shooing motions towards the door. "Now come on. Let's let the man get dressed."

Angel glanced back at Wesley. "Is - is this what you want? I mean she doesn't have to -"

"I'll be fine," Wesley said. He stood up, going back into the bathroom to retrieve his clothes. "Only - promise me you'll be there when the sun goes down?"

"Yeah, sure," Angel said. "Me'n Gunn. Promise."

Just like at the hospital we've got Wes assuming one thing and Angel answering another, but in a way that doesn't yet tip you off to the full extent of the problem. I have to admit I have fun working with narratives where at no time do I lie but at the same time you might not be noticing the full truth either.

Wesley didn't know how he felt to see the door to his flat again. He was even less certain of what he felt when he reached into his coat pocket and touched the familiar key.

"Need help?" Cordy asked him.

"No. It's just - " he tried to smile "- disorienting."

Cordelia nodded and waited patiently while he opened the door.

Inside felt as it always did. Wesley could smell the musty scent of his books, the faint hint of a half-eaten chicken sandwich rotting away in the trash, the thin metallic tang of the breeze coming out of his air conditioner.

When I originally wrote that it was breeze from a heater. This is a leftover from my first visit to LA when it was insanely freaking cold and I hadn't brought warm clothes with me. Thus I can assure you that LA does get cold sometimes, especially at night. But I realized that me insisting on that doesn't really matter for this story, and air conditioner worked just as well as anything. Especially since it was something that had been running for a while. Leaving a heater on for that long gives the impression of a too-warm, stuffy apartment. Not a mood that I needed.

All around him things were in their proper places. Even a small pile of bills was spread across his desk as if he'd thrown them there himself just the other day.

But it was wrong. It was entirely wrong. He remembered packing it all up, lugging it down to Gunn's truck, worrying over scratches that the movers had left on the back of his couch.

There were no marks on his couch now, he could see that. But then again there wouldn't be, would there?

"Maybe you should sit down?" Cordy suggested. She put her purse and laptop case on the dining room table.

"It's - it shouldn't be like this," Wesley protested. He walked back into his bedroom, throwing open his closet doors and feeling his gut twist when he saw his clothes inside. "It shouldn't."

"I know," she said, appearing at his side. "It's a little confusing. That's kind of what a concussion's all about."

"This isn't a concussion!" Wesley turned away from her, yanking open his bureau drawers. Everything was as it should be - his clothes were in their proper order. He knelt down, opening more of them. There was his .22 pistol, his small collection of jewelry, notes and postcards that he'd saved from relationships past - everything.

I had fun figuring out what random things Wes would keep in drawers. Though again my kingdom for some blueprints for that @#$%ing flat.

"Are you looking for something in particular?" Cordy asked. "Can I help?"

The bathroom was next. His bathrobe hung behind the door. The medicine cabinet held his comb, brush, toothpaste, even the cologne and aftershave Cordelia had gotten him for Christmas.

Get me with the continuity with my own series. ;) I like including details like that though. They don't matter one way or another to people who don't care, but there are some who are as obsessive about the little things as I am, so I tried to write the series in a way that would reward the long-time readers who'd been paying attention.

"Wesley, maybe you should -"

"This is wrong," Wesley said. He walked out into the living room again, heading for his shelves. The large, black albums which contained his CDs were right where they should be. He unzipped the one on the far left, turning to the last pages and finding, as he was meant to, the Madonna and Michael Jackson CDs which only Angel had known he possessed. In frustration he threw the album down on his desk. "This isn't how it should be!"

Wes, especially s1 and s2 Wes, struck me as a guy who had a fey gay man's taste in music. He just wouldn't admit to it. This is also more continuity, too. Earlier in the series Angel talked about knowing things about Wes that Wes didn't want other people to know, such as some of the music that he liked.

"Wesley!" Cordelia put her hand on his arm, turning him to face her. "Calm down, okay? What are you looking for?"

"Evidence!" he shouted. He slumped down into the desk chair, rubbing his eyes tiredly. After a thought he opened the top right-hand drawer and reached underneath it. He touched the familiar packet of money that he'd hidden away in case of emergency. He slammed the drawer shut. "Damn it!"

I like using the underside of drawers for hiding places (Note to anyone who stays with me, this assumes I've got something that I need to hide. Right now not so much ;) ). So when I was thinking of things that Wes might do which would be specific to him - in other words that somebody trying to screw around with his head might not know about - I figured a hidden stack of cash would be a way to go.

"What kind of evidence?" Cordy asked.

"Anything," Wesley said. He motioned around him futilely. "Something - out of place. Where it shouldn't be. That I wouldn't have done. Something to prove this isn't where I live."

I like Wes assuming it's some kind of mind game or trick. It makes me wonder now how soon would he have concluded that, and would that somehow help me with my "hit with what?" problem earlier.

Cordelia's mouth puckered in sympathy. "I know. If this was me I'd be freaking even with the Sunnydale education. But redecorating your apartment - much though it really needs it - isn't the answer. You need rest, Wesley. You can barely stand up. How are you supposed to think?"

I love old Cordy. Ah how I miss her. I guess it's appropriate that I'm writing this on the day of the 100th episode of Angel.

"I have to figure this out," Wesley said.

"After you take a nap," Cordy insisted. "Go on. I'll wake you up in a few hours, Gunn and Angel will be here, and we'll figure it out together. Promise."

Wesley slept restlessly. He wouldn't have slept at all, except his body had other ideas. Unconsciousness drew him down like a weight and before he knew it darkness had fallen and the muted sound of voices filtered through to him from the other room.

He pulled himself out of the tangle of his sheets and clothes. His head felt heavy, as though it were filled with lead. His eyes kept slipping closed even as he sat up. He forced himself to not give in to the urge to lie back down.

His hand found his glasses unerringly and, rubbing his hand over his face, he put them in his shirt pocket as he stumbled his way towards the bathroom.

What was it?

Cold water ran in the sink for longer than he could determine as he tried to catalogue his symptoms. He ran his fingers absently under the stream, then splashed some of the water on his face.

Evidence, he thought. There had to be evidence.

He had woken up at the warehouse. No, he corrected himself, outside of the warehouse. Everyone had been there, but only he had been affected by it - assuming one didn't count Cordelia's vision hangover.

The hospital had found nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing which would suggest a cause for his symptoms beyond that of a concussion. Therefore it was reasonable to hypothesize -

What? What could one conclude? Wesley dried his hands on a towel and put his glasses on. He wondered if it would be possible to take an aspirin. The front of his head was pounding as much as the back. Remembering - or feeling almost certain that he remembered - that Angel had taken all of the paperwork from the doctor he opened the door and went to join his friends.

This part worked for me because I was allowed to give Wes this nice long moment of introspection and show how his mind worked. That way I could cover the bases of him wondering what was going on and actually follow his thoughts.

This also works in terms of pacing. Wes is about to get a shock and the shock will be better if he's in a fairly calm mindset. He's thinking, but he's not panicked. I can therefore use his thoughts to take you along one path so that you then get shocked with another.

They were deep in quiet conversation. He was able to hear the sound of his name a few times and hoped it was a sign that they'd located a lead or two. He wasn't sure how much longer he could bear to be left in the dark. Something was wrong. More than a concussion. He just couldn't put his finger on what.

Then he walked into the living room and saw Angel looking longingly at Cordelia.

TBC

Zing! And smashcut to black so again you're forced to go "Huh?" right along with Wesley.

The Cordy thing, btw, was based on a couple of things. First off it was Wes not speaking up. But second it was my desire to bring something into the series that had been done during season 3. I like paralleling canon and including as many small details from canon as I can to help anchor the story, especially with stories that go for the long haul like this. Epiphany started out in the latter half of s2. That means I'm missing huge chunks of things like Pylea, Fred, Connor, and so on. The more bits and pieces I can include means the easier it is for readers to feel grounded and not have to remember a volume's worth of "Okay, this is just like the show except for this, and this, and this, and also this, and this other thing, and...." Instead they can duck into a story and go "Oh, okay, this is mostly like the show except for the actual gay sex. I can dig it."

(Not saying I'm perfect or even obsessive with it, just saying if I can do it I like to do it. This is why in Pet, which is based in s5, I'm offstaging Eve as much as possible. Yeah the entire premise for Pet is about as non-canonical as you can get, but as far as the characters go I want that being the only thing that's screamingly non-canonical. I don't want to do something with Eve, guess wrong, and have her character get Jossed within a couple of weeks. So offstage she goes until such time as she settles down enough that I can write her consistantly.)

Anyway, I wanted to include some element of s3 into the series just to have the parallel of "s3 dealt with this issue, Epiphany dealt with this issue".

Connor was too big. Holtz was too monster of the week. But Cordy - now that I could work with. Especially in this senario. So that's why it's not just that Wes is in another dimension, but it's one where Angel's in love with Cordy. Basically he fell into s3, just minus the Fred.

Unknown

Note: Big snuggly hugs to James Walkswithwind for beating me over the head so she could read this before everybody else - um - I mean beta reading. Yeah, that's it, beta reading.

I'm including the thanks here because James really did do a great job with the beta reading, so she deserves the repeated kudos

He wasn't sure why that had done it. Instinct, perhaps. But suddenly, sickeningly, he knew.

He turned on his heel and ran back into the bedroom. With little shocks he recalled everything that had happened, all that had transpired since the warehouse. Every touch, every word, every gesture.

Which was my little hint that it wouldn't hurt for you to do that either.

"It can't," he whispered, willing to convince himself or anyone who might listen. "It can't."

He knelt down by his bed and jerked open the drawer to his nightstand.

Eyeglass case. Bookmark. Handkerchiefs. Pens. Paperclips.

He got up and crawled over the bed to the other drawer.

British Airways sleeping mask. Tranquility crystal. Forgotten spare tampon from Virginia which had rolled to the back.

S2 Wes strikes me as the kind of sensitive new-age guy who wouldn't have minded the feminine products in the nightstand.

Otherwise empty. No lubricants, crosses, Holy Water or anything else which made it possible to have sex with -

I like this line because not only is it showing Wes's dawning horror, but it shows just how casually he's accepted the dangers of having a relationship with a vampire. He's literally sleeping with someone where safe sex means you keep the means to kill him right by the bed. That's not actually good, as Angel will later point out to him.

"Wes?" Gunn appeared out of the corner of his eye. "You okay?"

Wesley grasped the open drawer as though it could support his weight. "Am I seeing anyone?"

Gunn came closer, frowning. "Huh?"

Slowly, carefully, he slid the drawer closed. He stood up, not daring to look at Gunn, not daring to make this real by looking at another human being confirming this for him. "Am I in a relationship?"

"Oh," Gunn said, with understanding. "Nah. You and Virginia broke up - man, gotta be nearly a year ago now. You know, I been meaning to tell you you need to get laid."

Fuzzy tigering around exact dates is always your friend. Gunn guessing "nearly a year" leaves me tons of leeway as to when this takes place. I like that because pinning things down to exact dates only makes more work later.

"I have to see the Host," Wesley announced. He patted his pockets down, trying to remember where he'd left his keys.

"Okay," Gunn said slowly. "Probably a good idea. Spent all day looking and we got ourselves a big pile of nothing to show for it. But you think you should be singing right now?"

"No," Wesley said, heading for the front door. "I think I should be drunk right now, but I'll settle for singing."

"Oh, sweetie, you are in the wrong place."

Lorne now steps in as my go-to guy for exposition. Again the actual mechanics of Wes being in another dimension isn't the point here, so I don't need or want to spend a lot of time with it. Instead I use Lorne to explain it and allow me to move on to other things.

The four of them were gathered around a table at Caritas. After some argument, it was decided that they would all go. Wesley would have preferred to be alone but they had pointed out, not unreasonably, that he was in no condition to drive.

Also his bike was back at the Hyperion.

They'd taken Angel's car. Wesley had sat in the back, staring out the side. Gunn had sat beside him.

At Caritas, Wesley managed to get through a passable rendition of Strawberry Fields Forever before once again losing his ability to stand unaided. Fortunately their table wasn't far from the stage.

I've said this before but I'm going to keep saying it until the actual show stops beating the single Mandy joke into the fucking ground. Don't stick with just one singer. It's stupid. Nobody likes only just one singer. Angel would like other people besides Manilow. He'd also like more than one song by him, but he'd also like more than just him. Fred would like bands other than the Dixie Chicks. The writers on the show are being stupid by always putting Angel with Manilow and, now, Fred with the DC. That's not good writing. It's at best lazy and at worst seriously annoying.

You wanna know what the characters would reasonably like? Take what canon gives you, go to Amazon, put that artist's name in and then take advantage of the "People who bought this album also bought..." feature. Bingo. Instant market research and you didn't have to pay a dime.

Wes on the show thought about singing Cat Stevens. People who like Cat Stevens also like the Beatles. There ya go. Now go forth and preach it to the masses. Eventually we'll get them to admit that maybe, just maybe, Angel might also like Neil Diamond.

"What do you mean 'wrong place'?" Angel asked.

"I mean," the Host said, "that there's a place he should be and this isn't it. And when I say 'place' I'm not just talking about here at Caritas, happening though it may be. I'm talking worlds."

"Oh thank God," Wesley said. A rush of relief ran through him. He began to try to remember all he'd ever read about interdimensional travel.

This part was interesting for me to write. First off this was the first time I was really telling a supernatural story. Even in my VampChron days I mostly stuck with character pieces. I wasn't really into using the supernatural world. You know me: I like my psychology.

But the alt dimension was the best way to make Wes see his issues in sharp relief, so I did it even though I was nervous about trying it.

That being said, the flip side is that Angelverse is a world where these things are commonplace. So I had to remind myself that the revelation about the dimension change would probably be taken by most of the gang as calmly as they would news about a change in the weather.

"Wait - you mean this is some sort of Close Encounters of the Third Kind?" Gunn asked.

"Not quite," the Host said. "More like Star Trek and Kirk in better clothes."

I still had to do some exposition though, so Gunn makes for a good character for me to use. Canonically he's the one who always had to take a second and go "Hang on, what is going on here again?" So I could use him to help tease out the explanation.

"How many stupid dimensions are there?" Cordelia asked. Off of Gunn's look she clarified. "There was a thing back in high school."

"Ah," Gunn said.

"How can I get home?" Wesley asked.

The Host shrugged. "Wish I could tell you, but dimensions really aren't my gig. I'm kind of fond of the one I'm in."

Inasmuch as I'm never sending the gang to Pylea, that's about the only hint of Lorne's history that you're getting in this series. I like to think of it as a shout-out.

"The warehouse," Angel said. "Must've happened when you moved the tablet."

Oh, ya think?

"Oh ya think?" Cordy asked.

Thanks, Cordy.

Angel shrugged, intent on playing with his drink.

Wesley watched him, then turned his eyes back on the Host. "I need to get home."

Unlike evilCordy of s4, the characters of this dimension don't actually change their behavior just because the audience is now in on the secret. Amazingly the fourth wall doesn't get broken that way - and pity Charisma couldn't remember that but I'm letting it go and detaching with love, I promise.

Anyhoo, the universe remains consistant to itself. Cordy makes a snarky comment to Angel, Angel, the dumb sap, can't meet her eyes. It's the same as before. But now Wes knows what's going on, so the actions have significance to him. He's watching the man he loves be in love with someone else. He's currently dying on the inside.

"I know," the Host said, sympathetically. "I'm picking up on that Auntie Em vibe loud and clear."

Wesley took a sip of the scotch he'd ordered over everyone's objections. "Tell me to click my heels together and I'll do it. Whatever it takes."

As another PSA, you shouldn't drink alcohol when you've got a serious concussion either. Also? Stay in school. And that's one to grow on.

"Sounds like clicking your brain cells a few times," Gunn said. He looked at the Host questioningly and received a nod in confirmation. "Figure out what's on those funny looking boards."

"And how to get back to the right place once you use them," Cordelia pointed out.

Wesley felt the world tilt. He hadn't even considered the chance of arriving someplace else.

Wouldn't that be a hoot and a holler? But no, I wouldn't hurt Wes like that. I'm not that cruel.

Much.

Angel tried to catch his eye. Wesley refused to let him. "We'll - we'll figure it out, Wes. Promise."

"I need my books," Wesley said. He reached for his wallet, barely feeling his hands as he pulled out the necessary bills. "Gunn, could you call me a cab?"

"I can take you back to the hotel, Wes," Angel offered.

Wesley downed the last of his drink. "I need my books. I assume they are at my flat, considering - I assume they're at my flat."

"Actually," Cordy said, "you brought a lot in to your office. At the hotel."

"Fine," Wesley said. "Let's all go to the hotel then. Make an evening of it."

I pictured Wes being very overly-cheerful and snarky about it. Wasn't sure how to describe that since Wes himself didn't strike me as caring enough to note his own tone, so I just wrote it out and hoped the words themselves suggested the attitude behind it. I was told that it did.

"Can I have a sec with the Wyndam-Pryce beneath my wings?" the Host asked. When the other three looked at him, he gave an easy smile. "It's nothing serious. Go on, warm up the car and talk amongst yourselves. He'll be out in two shakes of a Dropnar's tail."

I like playing with the nicknames Lorne uses for people. One of these days I'll have him meet a guy called Tom, just so he can refer to him as "My little tank engine".

"I don't want your advice," Wesley said, after the others had left.

"Then why are you sticking around for it?" the Host asked. When Wesley looked about to protest, he made a gesture of peace. "Look - I know you're feeling - well, heck, like the world just got ripped right out from under you. And all that anger you've got? More than understandable. But it's not his fault."

Wesley didn't even have to ask who the "he" was. Instead he looked back at the Host steadily. "Tell me - is it true? What I'm thinking?"

The Host looked as though he didn't want to answer, but finally nodded. "Yeah."

"Well then," Wesley said, getting up to go, "you're absolutely right. It's not his fault. It's mine."

This part of the conversation was tricky. I wanted to lay the groundwork for Wes coming to terms with his issues but without actually solving the problem then and there. Ergo, ambiguious conversation with Lorne. But basically what this was meant to do was set up how Wes was starting to figure out that if Angel was off wanting to tap someone else's arse (see? it just doesn't work in some situations) then it was a failing on Wes's part, not his own. Unfortunately I suspect this is one of those times when I was too ambiguous. Ah well.

"A visitor from an alternate dimension," Gunn gave Wesley an approving look as they entered the lobby of the Hyperion. "Gotta admit - that's cool."

"You make it sound like some sort of cheesy B movie," Cordelia said. She checked the answering machine on the counter for any messages, then plugged in her laptop and powered it on. "It Came From Another Dimension. Please. I swear, there's more universes out there then my dad had phony tax shelters. Remember that time we had two Willows?"

"Um, yeah," Angel said. Wesley couldn't help but watch in morbid fascination as the vampire put his coat and car keys in their usual location. "And - well, the Hell dimension."

"Yes," Cordy said slowly, her eyes on her monitor, "but that was your summer holiday back in high school. I, on the other hand, got a great tan. Although I guess that would be a Hell dimension for you too, huh? Right up there with the dimension of pointy wooden furniture and nothing but fuchsia clothing as far as the eye can see. Which, now that I think about it, is pretty much Hell on everybody."

I loved that Cordy line. Can't remember if anybody else did. But sometimes I amuse myself.

Wesley walked into his office. Gunn followed him. "So what's your place like?"

Wesley looked around. Disconcertingly, things were where he'd left them. Even the take away receipt that he forgot to throw out from Wednesday sat accusingly on his desk. He crumbled it up and tossed it into the waste bin. "Much like this."

One of the leitmotifs I wanted for the alt dimension was that everything was the same. Because deep down Wes has another fear. He's not just scared to admit he's gay, he's scared to discover that he's useless. It hasn't clicked for Wes yet but if you go back and read you'll see this constant theme of everything is the same. Even pissant stuff like that take away receipt (and notice the British term as it worked for the moment and wouldn't confuse anybody) is right where he left it. At some point Wes is going to realize that if the only change was that Angel was in love with somebody else, what the Hell does that say about how much Angel really needed him?

Cordy moved her chair so that she could look at them from the doorway. "No big changes? You don't come from the world where everybody's a vampire?"

"No," Wesley pointed out, taking a few books about dimensional portals off of his shelves and staking them on his desk, "for if that was the case I would be a vampire, now wouldn't I?"

"Oh," Cordelia said, "I guess so. Hey how does my hair look?"

"Fine," Angel said, coming over to join them.

She sighed. "I meant in his world, dumb-ass. I've been thinking of cutting it."

"Again?"

Sometimes the characters snark on my behalf. But only when they can do it in character. I hope.

"It's the same," Wesley said. He added another book to the pile, then rested his suddenly unstable weight against the desk for a moment. "Your hair looks exactly the same."

See? Wes's apartment, the reciept, Cordy's hairstyle...

Cordy folded one leg over the other, pondering this. "Huh. Okay. What about my acting? Am I a huge success?"

Wesley had no idea which version of herself she was referring to. He settled on saying. "You had a national commercial. For hand cream."

I debated this one. On the show it was for sunscreen and I went back and forth on whether that would be cheesy or apt. I finally decided to keep national commercial and change the product. Not sure why sunscreen twigged my warning flag of being the wrong kind of detail to include. Possibly because the Epiphany gang had already passed that moment in the canon timeline and Cordy hadn't had the sunscreen commercial, so changing the product makes it easier for me to not confuse people by making them wonder what other canon events happened that I never told them about.

"Oh that one," she said, dismissing it with recognition. But she smiled proudly all the same. Angel smiled with her. Wesley turned away and tried to remember where he'd stored the few volumes about P'cskish rituals that he'd kept from his days in the Council. Then he laughed at himself when he recalled that Angel had put them upstairs for him.

"Looking for something?" Gunn asked quietly.

"A large box," Wesley said, indicating the size with his hands. "Somewhat old - cardboard. There's a stain on it, not unlike coffee."

I want to say I debated adding in the coffee stain on one of Wes's boxes in "Transition", which was the packing story. But I think I didn't because that struck me as too clunky and obvious. Plus unnecessary. Boxes get stains on them, you don't need me to show you that.

Now watch and discover that I'm guessing wrong and I really did write the stain in somewhere ;)

Gunn nodded and began searching.

"Can I help?" Angel asked.

"No," Wesley answered. He found his camcorder. "Gunn - I'm going to need you to take this to the warehouse. Record as much as you can of the area and the tablets in particular. If you can procure still photographs of them as well I'd greatly appreciate it."

"You got it," Gunn said. He took the camcorder from him and checked the indicator on the battery. As he did, he pointed at the bottom box in a stack of three. "Hey - this what you want?"

Wesley came over to look. "It might be." He reached up to pull the top box down. It was unbalanced, and the rattling sounds coming from it told him this was the box that in both worlds had been half-filled with thick, leather volumes while the top contained desk lamps and figurines. He struggled with it, trying to find a center of gravity which could support both it and his still-swimming head.

I do think I threw in a mention of Cordy packing a box like that. Because that at least seemed like a random detail on both ends which wouldn't be so specific as to be obnoxious.

"Here," Angel was at his side, his hands filling Wesley's vision as they wrapped around the box's corners. "Let me."

Wesley dropped it. Surprised, Angel barely caught it before it hit the ground and shattered what was inside. "I can't."

Poor Wes isn't handling the whole Angel not being in love with him thing very well, is he?

Angel's eyes were a soft and deep brown. "Can't what?"

"I - I..." This time when unconsciousness overcame him, Wesley didn't fight it at all.

I liked Wes passing out because he really was overwhelmed. Plus it was an easy way to get him back to his apartment and onto the next phase of introspection. However, once I did my research it turned out multiple fainting spells like that were a big no-no from a medical perspective, so I added in the bit about Wes being checked by a doctor.

He was back in his apartment. In his bed. His, he thought ironically, then curled up into himself as all the connotations of the word came over him.

Dimensions. He'd studied them back in the Council. Sometimes existing in their own right, other times brought into being through magic. The differences between them could be as vast as Heaven and Hell, or as subtle as a misplaced ant.

Wesley held no doubt as to which one he was in.

Little melodramatic but Wes is in a world-class funk right now so I don't think it's too bad. He's wallowing. People who wallow get melodramatic about their problems sometimes.

They came in to visit him, each one of them taking turns at waking him up when three or four hours had passed. At Cordelia's insistence a doctor was brought by to examine him once more. Wesley submitted to all of this as silently as he could. He didn't dare himself to speak.

The living room became an impromptu office. It reminded Wesley of when Angel Investigations had blown up the first time and they'd been forced to work out of Cordy's flat. He wondered if that had been when it started - when Angel had first realized his true affections for her.

I wonder that too sometimes, considering canon made it come out of more or less nowhere. But again I'm detaching with love.

If Cordy herself was aware of it, she gave no indication. Angel tripped and stammered his way around her like an overlarge adolescent and she proceeded much as she ever did, with little difference between her and the woman he knew.

Truthfully, he didn't hold it against her.

Tiny moment of truth from Wes there. He knows that being in a relationship with Angel isn't an easy thing. He doesn't blame someone else for avoiding it. But at the same time his heart is being ripped into tiny pieces because he can't stand watching Angel act around her the way he did around him.

Later on I would have fun with that with the Then/Now sequences. I enjoyed going back and showing the early stages of dating that I skipped over when I didn't know what the Hell I was doing - er, I mean when I knew all along that they would have more dramatic impact when I used them for contrast. But one of my favorite "then" moments is Angel sitting on Cordy's couch, shyly asking if she thinks Wes is dating anybody.

Shaddup. I'm as hard as nails in other senarios. Leave me and my sappiness be.

Angel and Gunn, too, were the same as always. Wesley found himself responding automatically when Gunn asked him if they would keep their regular appointment at the pub for darts that Friday. Angel, for all his awkwardness, still drank his coffee entirely black and wore his red shirt on Tuesday to prove to everyone that he had clothes of more than one color. It was the same old comfortable routine.

Wesley couldn't think of anything more horrifying.

Now Wes is starting to get it. Everything is the same, ergo his own feelings and actions don't matter. He now has, he believes, concrete proof that he's the least important thing in Angel's life. Now don't mind him as he goes over here and slits his wrists, mmmkay?

Actually no, Wes isn't a suicide kind of guy. Angel is suicidal. Wes just swallows the pain and swallows the pain and swallows the pain until he can't let his positive emotions out anymore either. But he doesn't do suicide. (And not self-injury either. Have I mentioned I've got a pet peeve about that? I've got a pet peeve about that. And NEVER have Wes apologize for any action he took as a leader or I'll beat you with a fully annotated copy of The Fellowship of the Ring. Or something else that will make Andrew cry. Just you watch.)

They abandoned him once the 48 hours of danger had passed. He had proved to them all time and again that he could move and care for himself unaided, and beyond sleep he hadn't passed out since the incident at the hotel. Cordy in particular had been concerned, but he promised to check in regularly.

His living room held four boxes full of books that had been brought over during his convalescence. Gunn had fulfilled his request, and a videotape of the entire warehouse sat on his desk, along with two poster-sized blowups of the wooden tablets. It was, as he'd promised them, all that he needed.

They'd left, and once he heard the last of their footfalls he put the chain lock on his door. Then, after a thought, he propped a chair against the knob, sealing himself in.

His refrigerator contained a six-pack of American beers, left there for when Cordy and Gunn came over. His kitchen cabinet held three pints of Guinness and an unopened bottle of scotch. He gathered them all together, brought them into the living room, and began to work.

In Epiphany I often put Guinness into Wes's hands and Bass into Angel's. It's just my little joke about both of them going for the opposite country's product as a sign of how smitten they are with each other. As I read this now it makes me wonder if that isn't a hint that the Wes of this universe also has a crush on Angel, but never got up the nerve to talk about it.

Either that or he just likes drinking liquid bread. Either/or.

He wasn't surprised when the knocking came, two days later.

His phone had rung, but every message inquired after his well-being. They'd found no clues.

Knowing that they wouldn't leave him alone otherwise, he had deliberately called Gunn on his cellphone in the middle of the afternoon. He'd tiredly explained that he was all right, then launched into a detailed summary of all his research so far which had sufficiently bored the man enough to make sure he wouldn't volunteer to come over and assist.

Cordelia had written him emails. He wrote back with short progress reports.

Which left one person, and his all too familiar knock.

"Wes?"

He stood up stiffly, taking care not to disturb the piles of books and scribbled notes around him. The bump on his head had begun to heal, but he steadied himself all the same. His concussion might have receded, but the amount of alcohol in his system hadn't. Particularly not since he'd replenished his supply the night before.

One of these days I'm going to do a fun story about Wes being drunk, because I think that'd be hysterical. But right now he's drunk and miserable which is a whole other kettle of fish. I actually had to work this a bit to make it plausible for Wes's character. Originally he did things which were too random even for him in a drunken state.

"Wes?"

He moved the chair aside and methodically undid the locks. He opened the door and leaned against the frame. Angel was there in a familiar tableau.

"Hey. I - "

Wesley laughed. The sound came out of his lips before he was even aware of it. "Showing an interest?"

Shout-out to the long term Epiphany fans there. But also one which is part of the moment. After all, Angel coming to knock on his door to ask if Wes was okay was what started their relationship in the first place.

Angel blinked. "No. Um - what?"

Wesley walked back into the living room and sat on the couch. He found a full bottle of scotch on his second try and poured himself a glass. He paused when he saw Angel still standing in the doorway. "Oh come in. It's practically inevitable."

Angel stepped inside, quietly closing the door behind him. He took in the sight of the apartment, and Wesley himself. "Should you be drinking? In your condition?"

For the record: no he shouldn't. You should also learn CPR and don't do drugs. Now you know. And knowing is half the battle.

"Yes," Wesley said, taking a hard swallow. "Quite especially in my condition. Be glad I don't ask to borrow one of your cigarettes."

Again Angel registered surprise. "How did you - "

"You've been smoking on and off since your liaison with Darla," Wesley said, not knowing why he felt the need to tell him. "Perhaps even before. I never asked."

Another moment that takes care of a lot of things all at once. It's foreshadowing again - Angel is smoking and therefore darker, as I said before. Wes is aware of it and is calm about it. And thirdly this Angel is smoking. Which goes to shore up Wes's theory that nothing he does makes a difference.

"Oh," Angel said. "You know from - gotcha." He sat down in the chair next to him. He tried to read Wesley's notes. "Any luck? With the portal?"

"As opposed to luck at guessing winning numbers for tonight's lottery?" Wesley asked. He took another swallow. "Not that it matters. The answer is the same - absolutely nothing with a lovely dish of bugger all on the side."

I checked and double checked every transcript site I could find because that line felt so familiar to me. Wes has one like it and Giles has one like it but I couldn't find one that was exactly it. I still worry that I inadventently stole it. It might possibly be Blackadder but if it is I don't mind as much because I could see Wes quoting Blackadder (original versions of him in Bad Girls had him as a Python fan - Python fans and Blackadder fans are a Venn diagram with a lot of overlap. And yes, I am this obsessive about the details of Wesley's life.)

Angel took that in. "You want to get back."

"What gave it away?"

I don't think it's possible to have too much fun with snarky!bitchy!Wes. Especially when he's unleashing it on Angel. Not that I think Angel deserves abuse but because I like a Wes who's not so cowed by him as to feel he can't speak frankly.

Wesley couldn't mistake the look of hurt in Angel's eyes. "Sorry."

"It's hardly your fault," Wesley told him.

"I could've stopped you - him - I dunno," Angel said. "Prevented it."

Angel, of course, is about as observant as a brick. All he knows is that Wes is miserable and in a pissy mood. He's got no idea how much he's been making it worse just by being there. Which I guess is actually a leitmotif for the start of their relationship in the world of Epiphany.

The world felt funny. Humorously so. "Yes, well, that would have been something. Preventing this. However as neither one of us is prescient and we don't to my knowledge possess a way to travel back in time, we're stuck as we are."

"Is it bad?" Angel asked.

Now Wesley was surprised. "What?"

"Being here," Angel said. "Is - is it that bad?"

The sympathy wrenched the words out of him before he was even aware of it. "I don't know. How long have you been in love with her?"

I knew that line when I brainstormed the idea in my head before writing it. I was just dying for this moment of Wes's heartbreak laid bare like that.

They stared at each other for a moment. Wesley damned the part of him which couldn't resist Angel's voice.

"You - um - I don't know," Angel admitted. He studied his hands. "It just - happened."

"Of course," Wesley said softly.

"She's nice, you know?" Angel continued. "Been around. Seen... both sides of me. Makes me laugh sometimes."

"Please stop."

Angel closed his mouth, looking at him in confusion.

Wes, of course, can't stand to listen to this because he wants to know why Cordy gets credit for that and he doesn't. This ties in to the other theme of Wes's ability to speak up being the reason why they're together in the first place.

Wesley could feel his veins. Each and every one of them. They felt as though they were carrying acid to his heart. He held still, then grabbed at his bottle, drinking from it directly.

"Wes?"

"What did it?" he asked hoarsely.

Angel looked as though he was trying hard to comprehend. "Did what?"

Wesley clutched the neck of the bottle tightly. His mouth was no longer under his control. "Made you. Choose her."

Angel shrugged. "I - I told you. You said - "

"Why her?"

The silence was palpable between them. Angel stood. "Maybe I should -"

"Tell me," Wesley felt what little remained of his dignity dissolve inside of him. "Please."

Angel hesitated. "I don't understand."

Wesley gave a bark of laughter. Or perhaps it was a sob. "No," he said. "You never did."

"Wes..."

He was weeping in earnest now. "God - it doesn't even matter, does it?"

Weeping Wes is always a tough call. Especially when you're basing it off of s1 and s2 Wes, like I did. I wouldn't make a post latter half s3 Wes weep so much, but s1/s2 Wes practically burst into tears if the store was out of chocolate milk that week. So it felt out of character not to do that to him sometimes. Plus he's drunk so that adds to why I felt he might do it.

FWIW weeping to me is also different than crying. Weeping means the tears are falling but you're not racked with sobs or anything like that. So it's not me picturing Wes as being an effete little twerp who's dabbing his lashes with a lace-trimmed hankerchef. I just figure if he's this drunk and sick and emotionally wound up he'd lose a few tears.

But of course it's always hard to make your male characters cry because then you get accused of feminizing them. To be frank: tough shit. Wes of this time period cried in canon. If I didn't have him weeping in similar moments I wouldn't be doing my job. Now ask me if I would ever make Gunn weep like this and then we can talk.

(Answer: no).

"Wesley -"

"No," he said to himself as he took another few swallows, "why would it? It's not as though it makes a difference. It's not as though it made a difference. You do realize that, don't you? The universe changes and it's exactly the bloody same."

Around about here is when James's influence took shape. When I wrote this arc out the first time this scene was actually different. For some reason I thought the part about Wes noticing how nothing had changed wouldn't come into play until much later, like when he got back. I can't remember what I did have Angel and Wes talking about here, but James pointed out that whatever it was wasn't nearly as meaty or interesting as this other issue that I was saving for later. So I did a rewrite and I gotta say if you ask me James was right.

Which first off is a story about giving credit to your betas, because when I presented this part to James I said words to the effect of "This is basically done, so I don't expect to have a lot to change in terms of the huge plot points". Which I meant only to indicate that I was giving her my final copy and not a draft where even I knew work had to be done (why give your betas something if it's not finished yet?). But I've got to imagine saying something like that creates an environment where it's harder for a beta go to "Uhm... you may want to rethink the story of your story" so props to James for doing it anyway.

This is also a story about my writing process too. Very often I get a story idea and I work at it and work at it and discover a problem I was having was due to me adding in more steps than I needed, or putting off something that actually could be done right away. I call this Occam's Razoring my stories. Very often the simplest story is actually the better one. Sometimes I just need help realizing that.

Angel took the bottle from him. "You've had enough."

"Not nearly," Wesley told him. Not trusting himself to stand he emptied his half-full glass into his mouth instead. He wiped a stray drop with the back of his hand. His mind felt as though it were spinning. He remembered the last time he'd drunk anything close to this much - It's not as though the prophecy predicted the failed Watcher who would help him in this.

Another shout-out to long-term readers there. Wes is remembering his conversation with Spike, which is I think the first time Wes admitted that he knew he wasn't destined to be at Angel's side. Though I imagine the actual soul mate living in Sunnydale was a big clue for Wes there ;)

That conversation with Spike would get another shout-out later on, as his words to Wes provided the title of Lust for a Reason.

"Wesley."

"It makes you wonder why I'm even here," Wesley said, musing aloud. "Considering how effectual I am. I suppose I could have been replaced by a ferret, or even a large stuffed animal. Tell me, Angel - do you think you might notice?"

We're on to bitter!Wes now.

"You need rest," Angel said.

"I need - " Wesley started to snap, then checked himself. He snatched his bottle out of Angel's hands. Tears continued to fall down his cheeks. He forced himself not to say the word at the edge of his lips, or look at the man it referred to.

You get that he was going to say "I need you", right?

Angel sat down on the edge of the coffee table. His eyes were far too caring. "What?"

Far too caring in that Wes right now can't stand Angel's tenderness because it's not the kind he wants.

"Must I de-invite you to cease your meddling?" Wesley asked, wishing his voice were strong enough to make it a demand. He gestured with the bottle. "I'm sure the supplies are here somewhere. I must have kept them."

"That's it - I'm putting you to bed," Angel said, taking him by the arm.

Wesley tried to break the hold but again he was betrayed by other urges. The feel, the scent - God, now he understood the obsession with scent - the everything of Angel called to him. He let Angel yank him up, then fell against his body.

I loved that line about scent. It's something of a cliche from the vampire's perspective, but I liked flipping it around here and showing it from the mortal's side. Wes is so lonely for Angel that now he understands why every sense is a factor in having your lover near.

Mine. You're mine, Wesley.

Again I had to make sure that line was included in a story leading up to this.

"Do you have any idea," he whispered, his lips scant millimeters from Angel's neck, "how it felt for me? How dizzy I was with desire before I could even give it your name? How I felt when you - when you claimed me?"

Realization on Angel's face dawned, as it sadly often did, slowly.

I remember James correcting me on my wording of that sentence. I forget how I had it originally but she switched stuff around so that it read more clearly. But now Angel gets the full story. It took a drunk Wes and a few thousand hand puppets but yes, Virginia, I think Angel finally gets that Wes might have a crush on him.

Wesley pressed his hands flat against Angel's chest. "To know my place. To be with you. To suck your cock and know - know that I belonged, that I was accepted, that I had found my world and it was on my knees before you?"

*Cough* not that I've got a fetish for certain things. La la la....

Angel's hands were stiff against his arms. "Wes - "

"And that wasn't even the whole of it," Wesley continued, moving his own hands to Angel's shoulders. "You didn't let it end there. You fucked me, you loved me - you, Angel, believed in me, treated me as though I meant something, as though - "

"Stop it."

"- I wasn't a failure."

Angel pushed him away. Wesley fell back onto the couch. He laughed. "It's the cosmic joke, isn't it? I'm not a failure. I'm not even an anything. I thought your love for Buffy was the challenge. The fact that one day she might replace me. But it's not. It's the fact it could be anyone. It never had to be me. I never had to be. Because I haven't made a bloody difference."

"You're upset," Angel said. "I get that. But I'm not your guy. I'm not your fucking Angel."

"No," Wesley agreed. "But you could be."

This line was deliberately ambiguous on mine and Wesley's part, which was a gamble because some people weren't certain if it was meant to be. But basically Wesley is saying that both forms of Angel could be the other one. Wes is ironically observing that the Angel in front of him could be his lover if some mystical act that Wes hasn't yet determined took place, and he is also observing that Epiphany!Angel could have very easily been an Angel who didn't love or care for him. So in other words Wes is just realizing how easily fate can screw him over.

TBC

Present, Imperfect

Possibly one of my most favorite titles of mine ever.

Angel left soon after. The tension and silence had been unbearable. Wesley let him go and slept his drunken state off on the couch.

When he woke the next morning he put the alcohol away. It didn't numb enough, and the pain was the only connection he had left. He clung to it as though it were a rope that could tug him home. He poured himself into his research, letting that eat away at the energy created by his anger and frustration.

I had all kinds of depressing sounding music that I listened to while brainstorming Wes for this arc. I can't remember it all now but I'm sure I have the mix CD somewhere in one of my albums. I mention that because I remember picturing Wes hanging on to that thread of pain while I was listening to one of the songs.

Interdimensional travel, his books told him, was a tricky thing. Finding yourself in a new dimension was practically as easy as falling off of a bike. Getting back, on the other hand, was not. With all of the dimensions there were trying to locate your own could be as impossible as trying to shoot a bee in flight.

However Wesley considered himself a damned good shot.

This part was originally longer and much more pretentious. I don't remember what all I had but it was lots of faux-poetic crap where I don't even know what I was thinking. I finally parsed it down into something much simplier and I'm happier for it.

"Think this is going to work?"

Wesley shrugged, kneeling down in front of the tablets. "It should."

Watch as I yet again leap the tallest plot device in a single bound. Wes's time in that dimension is drawing to a close, I'm not going to waste his and your time by farting around with the details of it. I got him there when I needed him there, I'll get him back when I need him back.

Which is not to say those details can't ever be interesting but - consider The Wish. Deus Ex Plot Device with the creation of the idea of vengence demons, and DEPC yet again by saying smashing the power center erases the wish. If Joss can use necklaces, I can use tablets.

Gunn studied the situation critically. "I mean once you try it's not like we can do this over."

"I know," Wesley said. He brushed dust out of the runes with his fingertips. "I don't care."

Gunn nodded. Wesley was glad that in all universes Gunn seemed to understand what he was feeling. "Cordy wanted to help."

Ahh - back when Wes and Gunn weren't mortal enemies because for some reason they both had the hots for Fred. I liked Fred once she was written well, but I've yet to like her as part of a romantic plotline. Not unless they gay her up. Around girls she has chemistry. Around guys she's like used mopwater.

"She told me," Wesley said. He'd thanked her, but said he felt it would be safer without as many people there. Less chance of someone besides himself switching dimensions. She'd wished him luck and hugged him goodbye.

"So how's this work?" Gunn asked.

"I'm going to try to recreate the circumstances as best as possible," Wesley said. "Based upon my translations I believe the portal between the worlds is restricted to a certain area. If I cross that area while holding the tablet it should open the gate again and return me to where I was."

"Or drop you off in the middle of a volcano," Gunn said.

"It's a distinct possibility," Wesley agreed.

I liked those last two lines as a way of adding some emotions to a moment that's otherwise pure technobabble.

"Sounds stupid, if you ask me."

Very Angel entrance there. His voice comes at you and then you get the reveal of him coming out of the shadows.

I'm very show-oriented when I write sometimes. If you look carefully you'll see moments where I start and end scenes like they do in terms of the dialogue to visual ratio (eg line of dialogue with no narrative, which is like unto hearing a voice while the screen is black, then a paragraph where the narrative kicks in again, which is like actually getting the visual with your audio). Sometimes I block like they do too. I don't do it on purpose, as in "I must write like the show". It's just that the show influences how I picture my own scenes.

Wesley's shoulders slumped at the sound of a new voice. "I didn't."

Angel appeared out of the shadows. He glanced at Gunn, then Wesley again. "How are you gonna recreate this if you can't even remember it?"

"I'll do my best," Wesley said.

"Gunn, get out of here," Angel said, casually. "I was with Wes. Let's do this right."

Things like this are part of Angel's core personality to me, which is part of why I think I stick with him as as character even in moments like s5 when most people would agree he's being an asshole. I don't deny that Angel can be a world-class asshole, but he also has the capacity to be a supportive friend when it's needed. He can exude his own patience and understanding to those in need - even if he's not the best person to talk to them all the time ;)

Gunn raised an eyebrow in Wesley's direction.

"Go on," Wesley sighed, resting his hands on his knees. "For all we know it requires the presence of a vampire."

And hey, maybe it does.

"Okay," Gunn said, clapping him on the shoulder, "but if this blows up in your face don't say I didn't tell you so."

Wesley smiled up at him in farewell. "I won't."

Gunn gave him a significant look before leaving. "Good luck, English."

"So how did you find me?" Wesley asked, turning his attention back to Angel.

"Cordy told me," Angel said. He shook his head when he saw what Wesley was doing. "That's the wrong one. You were holding the other one."

Wesley let go of the first tablet and shifted his attention to the second. He traced the runes, feeling his hand tingle. Oddly, he was beyond being terrified. "Why did you come?"

"I wanted to help," Angel said. "It's what I do."

"Of course."

"And you're my best friend."

I like that moment of Angel admitting that. I like what it said about the baseline of Angel's relationship with Wes regardless of what dimension.

From a writing standpoint, by the way, notice how I didn't include a "he said" there. That's because I wanted the words to literally stand on their own. Bang! There you go. Pure impact.

Wesley paused, thinking about that.

Angel stepped forward, meeting his eyes in the dim light. "I don't know what's up in your world - well, I can guess - but... here you're my friend. You're pretty much my only friend, Wesley." Angel smirked. "Not like that's much of a compliment."

"No," Wesley said, "it is."

Now Wes is slowly inching back towards his own baseline. He can't not be Angel's friend. He cares too much. He'll reassure Angel and support him, even if it's not the specific Angel he's in love with.

Angel sat down on top of one of the many nearby crates. "Cordy'n me - we're not friends. She told me herself."

"Time," Wesley automatically parroted the advice he'd given Angel nearly a year ago. "Time and space."

Here I cheated, because Wes never said it in any of the stories so far but he did say it repeatedly in Disharmony. I took a chance on people being willing to believe that if Wes said it multiple times there maybe he said it once or twice here too, even though Disharmony never happened.

"Yeah," Angel nodded. "That's what you told me. But - it's not the same. Probably never gonna be."

"I'm sorry," Wesley said, and genuinely meant it.

"Atonement's a bitch," Angel shrugged philosophically.

Wesley stood up. He touched a hand to Angel's cheek. Angel looked up at him. "I know it hurts."

"Yeah," Angel said, his voice rough. "You - you always did."

Had he been on his own world, Wesley would have kissed him. Perhaps sensing that, Angel turned his face to the side. Wesley took his hand back, stepping away.

Little social awkwardness there. Wes can't help but touch but this Angel's already committed his heart to another. It's not that Angel's having gay panic here or anything, he's just not used to thinking of Wes in that way.

"So your guy," Angel said, "it's... love?"

I liked this too. The AU Angel being friend enough that he's standing by this Wes now, even if it isn't the Wes who's his best friend. He likes Wes, he wants to make sure Wes is being taken care of.

Sometimes I amuse myself by wondering what would happen if the two Angels ever met. Then I hit myself over the head with a hammer because doing two Angels in a text medium is a recipe for painful, painful tears. I'd have definitely done it by now if I worked on the show, though. Easy to figure out which Angel is which if you make them wear different shirts or something.

"On my part, yes," Wesley confirmed.

Angel shook his head. "Meant on his."

"Oh," Wesley said. "I - he says it is."

"Buffy knows?"

Wesley smiled ironically. "It was the longest conversation of our lives."

Tiny bit of meta-humor there on how long Returning turned out to be.

Angel laughed. "Yeah. Guess it would be. Fuck - glad I didn't have to have it."

"Thus proving this dimension at least has some advantages," Wesley pointed out.

"Tell me about it," Angel said. He seemed lost in thought, as though contemplating the idea. "Nope. Hell'd be easier."

"You mentioned that on the plane flight back."

I did like throwing in that small detail, though. It wasn't something mentioned before so for me that helped make this tiny moment of exposition feel a bit more solid.

Angel looked at him quizzically.

"We were in England," Wesley explained.

Angel pondered that, then shook his head. "I don't wanna know. So does he - you know - treat you right?"

Wesley blinked. "Pardon?"

"Does he treat you right?" Angel repeated. "Doesn't - you know - leave you alone? Get all broody?"

Protective!Brotherly!Angel - gotta love it. This is part of why I was so frustrated when they made Angel's feelings for Cordy on the show into romantic ones. I liked the two of them being family. It was a sweet dynamic. Forcing it into romance in s3 makes me feel icky now when I rewatch s1 and s2. But at least I can still play with the family dynamic in fic.

"Angel, it's you, of course he gets all broody. I've simply made it my goal in life to teach him to have his breakdowns on the furniture."

Angel actually chuckled. "Good luck."

"I don't suppose you'd care to tell me why all catastrophes must involve falling to the floor?" Wesley asked, only half-seriously. "As it is I consider it a red-letter day if he does it on the carpeting."

"It's... a thing," Angel said. "I can't explain it."

It's interesting because of course Angel on the show has that habit of falling to the floor in moments of intense emotional pain (Beast!Angel in Pylea, losing Connor, etc) but honestly when I write Angel if he ever gets in moments like that I don't deliberately think "Okay, make him collapse now." It just feels like he wants to. If I'm writing deep in his head I get this impression of him wanting to curl up and get low. If I had to write a backstory for it I'd guess it's a leftover from centuries in Hell. It's a very primal desire. At his most animalistic core he craves being in a safe space.

I guess maybe that relates to the psychology of self-injury in a way. Those who self-injure feel the intense emotions until they burn or cut to make them peak. Angel gets the intense emotions and basically implodes. Dunno why. He just turned out like that in my head.

Wesley smiled at him. "A man of few words in every dimension."

"Probably why I keep meeting this guy of many languages," Angel said.

They locked eyes for a moment.

It surprised the Hell out of me when Angel and Wes here had an accidental moment of flirting. Basically when I brainstorm stories I figure out the main outline, then the tiny plot details, then rough sketches of the dialogue. When I sit down to write I keep that in mind, but for the most part I drop into the mindset of whatever character I'm working with and let things flow from there. So there's plenty of times when a word choice or phrase will spark a moment that I didn't plan out in advance. Sometimes they work, sometimes they don't. In this moment Angel's reply just came naturally and the boys had a moment of subconsciously realizing that this Angel might not be as unaware of Wes as he thought.

Wesley turned away. "I should - "

"There's a difference."

Wesley looked back. "Pardon?"

"Between here and there," Angel said. "Me and your guy."

Wesley busied himself with the tablet. "I appreciate the effort, but it's not necessary for you to make up stories."

"What's to make up?" Angel asked. "You're with him. That's - that's a big difference."

Wesley gave a small snort of laughter. "Please."

"Look - I dunno the whole deal," Angel said, "but I know you're living with him."

"Yes, Angel," Wesley said patiently, "it's a change of address. What a brave new world."

Little The Wish shout-out there. I realize Brave New World is a title in its own right, but they referenced it in The Wish so I liked including the shout-out here. Not that I would have purposefully written it in just for that, but since the dialogue went in that direction anyway I like the double meaning.

"It's a change of everything," Angel told him.

"Like what?"

"Like he's not alone."

"I - oh," Wesley swallowed, taking that in.

Angel kept looking at him, his gaze unwavering. "I thought about what you said the other night. About you and him, and me and Cordy. And all I could think was - your guy's gotta be the stupidest or bravest fuck I've ever known. Reaching for something he wants like that? Chancing the curse?"

"I don't seem capable of breaking it," Wesley said quietly.

I feel almost nostalgic reading Wes here as he still has that insecurity. He certainly moved on to other issues as time went on.

"Doesn't matter," Angel said. He paused, then explained. "You could. Anything could. And he's still with you? He asked you to move in? Jesus. I'm still trying to handle having the office in the hotel."

Wesley shrugged. "It was a safety precaution. So I could de-invite him from the building if he turned evil again."

"68 rooms in the Hyperion," Angel said. "You were looking for your stuff in my closet."

I forget which source I used to double check that but that is the number of rooms. The top two floors are also condemned, for whatever that's worth to you.

"I sleep there often," Wesley mumbled, feeling himself gripped by homesickness.

"Exactly," Angel replied. "Wes - I don't sleep with anybody. I wake up and drink my blood cold and my coffee black and try not to do anything to fuck things up more than I've already done in the past. I don't have a lover. I barely have any friends. I'm pretty sure I probably shouldn't. But if your guy has you - has somebody he can count on like that? That's not nothing, Wes. That's - fuck, that's everything."

On the show Angel at that time lead a very simple life. It was kind of a running gag but it was also a character trait. I suspect Angel was just afraid to let himself like things. He'd been too burned by life and too burned by the curse. It wasn't until time went on that he allowed himself little pleasures, and in Epiphany I had Wes be the catalyst for that.

"He's everything to me," Wesley admitted.

"Yeah," Angel said kindly. "I'm getting that."

Wesley felt foolish, and very, very tired.

"Come on," Angel stood up and guided him towards the symbols on the floor. "Time you went home."

Wesley allowed himself a moment to lean into the touch. Angel didn't pull away. "Thank you."

Angel smiled at him. "Anytime."

Though I hadn't originally pictured this being the issue that Wes dealt with on the conscious level, in the end I like that it was because alt!Angel here is the perfect guy to reassure Wes that no, really, Wes does make a difference. Which goes right back to the core of what started all this: Wes spoke up. He took a chance. He reached out to Angel and that mattered.

Now because I am neither Marti Noxon nor David Fury, I do not beat you over the head with how Wes's little talk with alt!Angel here is going to affect his sexuality issues. Instead I'll let that play out in the aftermath as he returns home and sees exactly what those differences are.

"Wes? Wes? Come on, Wes."

"Angel, he's not going to wake up with you hovering over him. We've got to take him to the hospital."

BANG! And now you've got your differences right there. In the AU it took Angel a while before he could be bothered to speak up. Now that Wes is back in the original Angel's the first out of the gate.

When I originally pictured this this whole section was different. The closure at the end was different (and I'll get to that) and this part here was much smaller. I forget what I included and what I didn't include, but I didn't have nearly enough of showing the contrasts again. I might have even skipped all the way to the hospital, if you can imagine.

But the thing was that you get gut instincts about the characters sometimes, and in this instance my gut instinct was insisting that no way no how would Angel not make a very obvious showing of his worry and care for Wes. So whatever this was to begin with, it was fleshed out a lot more to let poor Angel out of his cage so he could go all mother hen over Wes.

"I know. I just - come on, Wes."

Wesley opened his eyes. He was on the ground, outside of the warehouse. His head throbbed. Angel, Cordy and Gunn were all sitting beside him.

And Angel was looking at him.

That line sitting on its own is a smidge cheesy, but OTOH it's standing in contrast to Angel looking at Cordy, which was what made Wes realize the differences before. So I wanted it to stand out because to Wes this would stand out. I suspect this would be better in a visual medium, though. Wes opens his eyes and then we cut to a shot of Angel not being able to tear his eyes away from him.

And then they have sex. Or they would if I ran the show.

The ride to the hospital was as quick as Angel could manage it. Wesley found himself smiling at the deja vu of the whole scenario - both from what he had just experienced, and from nearly a year ago when he'd been shot and forced to sit painfully in Angel's car as Angel babbled at him.

This time Angel drove with almost exaggerated care, tensing whenever a light stayed red longer than Angel felt was truly necessary.

Still more of highlighting the differences. No doubt, now, that this is the right Angel.

From a technical standpoint, by the way, what I figured was that the other dimension moved much faster than Wes's original. So Epiphany!Wes and AU!Wes switched places, but AU!Wes was only in this dimension for a minute or two. Then they switched back and there you have it.

"It's all right," Wesley told him, sliding a hand across the front seat to caress his leg. Angel looked at him dubiously, but Wesley smiled in return. "I'll be all right. I'm not going anywhere. I promise."

Then, while waiting for pedestrians to cross, Wesley asked, "Angel - do you love me?"

"What?" Angel looked startled, taking his eyes off of the road long enough to frown at him. "Jesus, Wes - of course I love you. It was just a fucking fight. We'll deal with it."

Wesley slipped over to Angel's side of the car and held him as best he could for the duration of the trip.

And now we've got the flip side. It's Wes who knows exactly what's going on and poor Angel who's left scratching his head and wondering how the fight between them affected things.

Check-in was chaotic, but one of the many advantages of a vampire lover was that when he drew himself up to his full height and quietly said that Mr. Wyndam-Pryce would care to be seen now, the staff agreed to it. Wesley felt a twinge of guilt at possibly jumping ahead of the line, but he didn't care. He wanted to go home.

Hey look - Wes's name has neither an h nor an i. Funny, that.

"Fucking hate these places," Angel muttered as he paced around the small examination room they'd put him in.

This scene started out the same to again show the symmetry. Angel at his core was the same in both dimensions. As Wesley figured out, that other Angel could have been his Angel, if the circumstances had been right.

Wesley smiled at the near-repeat of Angel's rant. "It's a Sunday night in Los Angeles. There's bound to be delays."

Here we get a sublte cue about some of the other changes. Wes isn't as damaged here. That's because part of his problems were due to being in the other dimension. Now that he's home his mind isn't as scrambled.

"I don't fucking care," Angel said. He stood in front of Wesley, his brown eyes flashing. "You were seriously hurt, Wes. If they don't get somebody in here soon I'm gonna - "

Wesley kissed him.

Angel froze, then responded, then with reluctance pulled back. "Wes - wait. It's a public place."

"I don't care."

Nothing like being confronted with the loss of your lover to make you regain a little perspective. Losing Angel spooked Wes. He's not going to take that chance again. He won't go with the "safe" options anymore. Not if that means he can't have Angel.

"Okay," Angel said, his voice tinged with worry, "I know you got a real nasty bump there, Wes, but - "

Wesley kissed him again. When Angel tried to pull back he grabbed hold of Angel's shirt and refused to let go. Angel still tried to protest, but finally relaxed and responded, kissing Wesley with a deep and possessive hunger.

"I love you," Wesley said, cupping Angel's face in his hands. "I love you so much. I don't care who knows."

"Not that I'm complaining," Angel said, "but huh?"

I love that line. Angel: at one moment horny but also himself.

"It's a long story," Wesley replied. He let his hand trail down Angel's neck and torso. "I promise I'll tell you everything. But I - Angel do you believe me? Please say you believe me."

It was probably somewhere around here that this end scene changed. When I originally wrote it I was going to go full force on showing instead of telling by having Angel give Wes a blowjob right there in the exam room. I sort of liked it but I realized that was more about the pretty than about the plot. Yeah, it kind of carried the meaning, but it was too much showing. The boys had issues that they needed to hammer out, so the blowjob was taken out and the conversation was put in instead.

For the record, every sex scene in Epiphany has a point. Some points are more intense than others, but they're all in there for a reason. There's never sex for the sake of sex. If the boys are going at it then going at it is showing you something, especially in terms of how exactly they're doing it.

Angel giving Wes a blowjob, though it touched on a point (heh) didn't do it enough to be worth including. Out it went.

"I believe you, Wes, sure," Angel said. The lines of worry didn't leave his face for a moment. "Um - what exactly am I believing?"

Wesley chuckled, leaning forward and brushing his lips over Angel's again. He thrilled to feel Angel responding to him as he always did. "That I'm sorry."

"Oh for - " Angel moved back enough to look at him. "Wes - for fuck's sake I don't care. Not now. You got hurt. I've got bigger priorities. You don't have to - I dunno - make some gesture here. We both said some stuff, okay? It happens."

"I hurt you," Wesley replied. "That shouldn't just 'happen'."

Angel shrugged. "Well it does. Probably will again."

"Which isn't a 'no'," Wesley pointed out. "Which means I hurt you. I'm sorry. I - I didn't even know I could."

There Wes is starting to realize that he has impact. Even moreso than what alt!Angel pointed out to him. Wes secretly pictured himself as being as good as invisible in Angel's life. Now he understands that he actually matters enough to hurt Angel from time to time. That's not a happy thing to know, but it's a meaningful one.

Surprise flickered over Angel's face. He moved closer again, resting his hands on Wesley's arms. "Well you can, Wes. I love you. Kinda means I got my heart on the line here. And it's not like I've had a lot of practice with that."

Wesley reached up, resting his hand against Angel's chest where a heartbeat would be. "Your heart should be taken better care of."

"I want - " Angel looked as though he might stop himself from speaking, but then continued in spite of it. "I want it to be you. It's yours, Wes. You want it, it's yours. In - you know - whatever way you want. Whatever - whatever you feel comfortable with."

See? Angel's words here actually get to the meat of the fight. Blowjob wouldn't have conveyed this kind of specifics. We actually needed to know that Angel cared enough to back away from that word which upset Wesley so much.

"I never told you that, did I?" Wesley asked.

Angel blinked at what seemed like a change in topic. "What?"

"What I wanted."

"Thought you did," Angel said.

Wesley shook his head. "Not really. I asked you what you wanted. I told you I wanted that answer. But I never told you what I felt. What I hoped our future would be."

Again I had to be careful when writing out the stories before this to make sure this actually happened as Wes said.

Angel stilled. "Okay."

Wesley screwed up his courage. He forced himself to meet Angel's eyes, and to keep his own eyes open and clear. "You. Not just in sex, or in partnership, but in everything. I want to fight in your battles right by your side. And - and I want you to be with me when I fight in mine."

A faint smile touched Angel's face. Wesley continued. "I know I'm not Buffy. I know I never shall be. I can't replace her, or offer you all that she could. But you have me, for whatever you want. For whatever you're comfortable with. And I daresay if you ever tried it again you'd find it bloody hard to get rid of me."

Angel moved closer, sliding his arms around Wesley's back. "Wouldn't want to."

"You don't get a choice," Wesley replied. He paused, knowing he could stop there, but feeling as though he shouldn't. "Angel... the curse - "

"Don't," Angel's voice held a warning tone.

Wesley held up his free hand to forestall the complaint. "We don't know. We may never know. What we do know is I haven't broken it yet. Which can mean a lot of things. However there's one thing in all this that I am certain of." He met those brown eyes again and plunged forward. "I may not be your perfect happiness, Angel, but... you're mine."

That line right there was one I knew Wes was going to work up to at some point. Originally (back when this scene was about a blowjob) Wes wasn't going to say it. I kept telling myself that was for later in the relationship. But as I was writing this I realized that something like nearly twenty stories had passed already. They were there. Waiting anymore was stupid. So Wes said it now.

Angel froze, then pulled away. Wesley sat there, accepting it, knowing that it wasn't his place to demand anymore than he had already.

Then Angel turned back to him. "I love you," he said, his voice softer than Wesley had ever heard it. "I wish - " he smiled, ruefully "- sometimes I wish you did break the curse. Just so you'd know."

Wesley blinked, knowing that Angel had reduced him to tears not for the first time nor certainly the last. "I'd rather have you."

Again with the tears, but again with the canon. Wes always used to get emotional when people accepted him - especially Angel.

Angel sat down beside him, drawing him into his arms. "You sure?"

Wesley lay his head against Angel's chest, closing his eyes in contentment, knowing that he could stay there for the rest of his life. "Unquestionably."

And there we are. I liked how Angel and Wes's conversation addressed the issues of what was going on, and also how it ties back in with the title: Present, Imperfect. Their relationship works because sometimes it doesn't work. Wes isn't Buffy, he's not Angel's perfect happiness, but Angel doesn't need perfect happiness he needs Wesley. Conversely Angel is everything Wes wants, and Wes is more than happy with that.

Having settled out that part of their relationship, they're now free to start exploring some of Angel's issues and that's where all that lovely foreshadowing comes into play. Assuming you've read the following arcs I'll also add that note how Wes's actions here are foreshadowing in and of themselves. Wes has decided he's willing to do whatever he has to in order to be with Angel. Good for when it's Wes admitting that he's gay, possibly not so good when it comes to Wes actually committing homicide.

But that's a story for another day....

Fin.